SAND
by The Holy Mackerel
Summary: Revenge comes easy to those who refuse to see the world in anything but black and white. [Rating subject to change depending on whether or not I can understand how it works better. Contains: violence, lies, improperly cooked steaks, and more. Viewer discretion is advised. Current Chapter: Good Fight (Incomplete)]
1. Sand

Duster leaned back in a stretch, catching a glimpse of the midday sky at the edge of the umbrella that shaded him. A short, warm breeze washed over him, threatening to knock off the long-brimmed hat that rested atop his head and reveal his secret, prompting a slight adjustment of its brim. Painted clouds slowly drifted by, obscuring the sun and cooling the colors of the street. His eyelids fluttered, fighting against the sudden urge to rest, the world feeling so oddly comfortable in that moment. He let his gaze wander street-side, catching the shape of a pair of orange-hooded teenagers looking at their phones, tensing at the sight of them. Fox tails hung between each of their legs. Thankfully the sound of his older sister returning with their food brought calm back into focus and he accepted his meal.

The knife on her side of the table snapped to her left hand magnetically the moment she sat down, plunging into her meal, a fine steak, not a second later. The shank of meat refused to bleed at every cut, despite her pleas, cooked a little less rare than she'd requested. The disappointed look on the scraggly blonde's face didn't deter her from enjoying the meal, however. Lest it be poisonous, she'd say, it was her duty to always consume it whole. Duster himself had a turkey sandwich and a root beer – nothing nearly as fancy as his sister's steak, but wholesome nonetheless.

It wasn't often that they had the chance to relax and enjoy life in the city, but he always made sure to spend at least one lunch a month at that small restaurant their parents used to bring them to in the middle of Vale, taking a seat at the same table outside, closed in by the same fancy black fences. If there was any one family tradition that he liked to uphold outside of hunting, it was the appreciation of food. There was no food better than good food, he believed, except for maybe great food or amazing food, but he tended to group those all under the "good" category, because as long as it didn't taste like a fart-cicle it was fine by him.

"Something on your mind?" His sister cut in, taking a break from the meticulous work she'd committed to on her steak, the winged sword tattooed on her left shoulder carved into the meal.

"Jus' thinkin' about food while I eat food," he responded, chasing down his food with a swig of root beer. "Y'know, th' usual thing that I do when I do th' do."

"The doo-be-doo?" She chuckled, resting her chin on the back of her knife hand. Her bushy, grey tail swung back and forth to the rhythm of some imaginary tune.

"Naw, this is a different do. Th' doo-be-doo is more of a musical do than th' do y'do when y'do th' eatin' of th' food."

"Ah. Hard to tell sometimes."

"I know," Duster nodded, shredding a large piece of his sandwich between his uncanny number of canines, and other teeth alike. "You've got t'have a black belt in th' ways of th' do t'be able t'recognize all th' kinds of do properly."

"Wait," his sister paused, setting her cutlery on either side of her half-eaten meal, "is this a hair thing? 'Cause I've always wondered why you've kept your hair long – for real, I mean."

"See, Amber? This is exactly what I mean." He waved his arms about as he spoke as if serious about their conversation. "No, it's not a hair thing, it's jus' a thing. As for th' hair, I jus' like it this long, okay?"

"Wait, are we no longer joking," she squinted, "because I'm confuzled now."

"I'll let you be th' judge," he smiled.

"In the name of never having to think about this again, I'm gonna turn back to eating my steak, okay?" She picked up her utensils again with a red spark and did exactly what she said she was going to do.

Duster turned back to his own meal, picking his turkey sandwich up and taking a large bite out of it. He wasn't quite sure what it was about sandwiches that he liked so much, but he seemed to always get one every time they met up at that restaurant. Maybe its chefs had discovered the perfect ratio of bread to meat to condiments, or at least one close enough to perfect. Or maybe he just really liked turkey. Or maybe he just really liked sourdough. Or maybe they were the perfect compliment for a root beer. Or vice-versa. Or…

"Hey, I should probably ask this…" Amber cut in, disrupting his thoughts about food again. "How was the hunt?"

"Uneventful, actually," he frowned, setting his half-eaten sandwich down as he recalled the last couple days outside the city. "Turns out it was initiation day up at Beacon, so their new students had th' attention of most of th' Grimm in th' emerald forest."

"Really? That explains why you got back so early. Usually you're gone a week on these things."

"Well, I wouldn't say it was an easy time. There was a pack of Ursa and some stray Beowolves that'd been running from a forest fire that someone had started. Bray got a nasty burn from it as we put it out, but Cyril patched 'em up real quick. He'll be good for next month. Oh, and we had t'escape some ruins that a Nevermore had crashed through."

"What?" His sister's eyes went wide. "How'd you piss one of those off?"

"Weren't us. Like I said, Beacon started a couple days ago. Our collective jaws dropped as we watched a girl in red with a scythe drag it up th' side of a cliff n' decapitate it."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. Luckily, we didn't have t'dodge its corpse as it fell to the ground. There was that Death Stalker corpse, though…"

"That's what you call uneventful," she laughed, shaking her head.

"Well, we'd pro'bly would've dealt with more were it not for th' recall, but I suppose that ain't th' right word for it."

"No kidding, brother."

Any further conversation was cut short when a guy suddenly crashed through the window of the café up the street.

Duster leaned out of his seat to get a better view past his sister, who had turned to see what the commotion was about, and saw a pair of men join the first in the rather unusual act of being thrown out a window. A woman with violet hair in a violet jacket followed them out, cracking her knuckles in anger. There was a lot of shouting going on between the two parties – actually, only the men seemed to be shouting. The woman kept her silence, slowly pacing the street in a circle. A crowd slowly formed at the edges, leaving ample room as to not be caught in the scuffle. "Now I'm just plain confused," Amber muttered, befuzzled by just about everything, from the conversation with her brother, to the sadly overcooked state of her steak. It was still a decent enough steak, though, therefore, the possibly imagined by a four-year old gods of steak demanded that it be eaten, which she did.

Duster didn't say a word, instead focusing on the fight that broke out between bites of lunch.

It was one of the men who threw the first punch, which promptly resulted in him being thrown to the floor with a simple grab and trip. Neither of the other two were any more successful in their endeavors to assault the woman, ending up either on their backs after a single move, or face first into the pavement underfoot. They were persistent, though, getting up time and time again. Duster was particularly enthralled in the style of the woman, taking notice of how well she managed to read her surroundings. She always took the best action, able to read the flow of battle as if she had raised it herself. She also never attacked first, instead always countering the strikes of the three men. It was painfully obvious how untrained and outmatched they were compared to her. She was toying with them.

That in mind, Duster thought it would be a good idea to get her attention.

The younger sibling brushed aside part of his coat and pulled out a pistol holstered at his side, flipping it around so the barrel faced away and to the ground. Amber took notice when he flicked open the 8-shooter's chamber, only to find it empty. "Are you seriously about to do what I think you're about to do," she asked, still as bewildered as before. He picked a bullet off his belt that had a grey line around its rear and loaded it into his gun, its chamber closing again with a second flick.

"Why not," he asked back, cocking back the weapon's hammer as if it was necessary for it to fire and aiming down its sights. He waved for his sister to move out of the line of fire, the barrel of the gun moving ever so slightly as his target recovered from being thrown to the ground for the fourth time.

"By the food we came here to eat, brother, at least let me move our food out of the way so you don't get Dust all over it." He nodded in agreement, waited for her to move their food to another table, and took the shot.

The woman turned to face him the moment the crack from the gun exploded into the air. The round hit Duster's target square in the chest, toppling him to the ground a good ten feet up the street. The crowd that had gathered ran for the hills, with a few exceptions, who were either too scared to move or too entrenched in the commotion that they were figuratively dying to find out what happened next, even if it meant them literally dying. The two men still standing quickly gathered up their wounded compatriot and joined the rest in screaming and fleeing. It was only a concussive round, though. He'd be fine. Probably.

The younger sibling brought the barrel of his gun close to his lips and blew away the smoke that wisped from it like an old action star before emptying the spent round into his pocket and holstering the weapon. The woman casually walked down the street to meet him as he took a hearty swig of his root beer, leaving his sister still completely and utterly befuddled. The closer the woman got, the clearer he could see her. He paid particular attention to the blue streaks in her violet hair.

When she was close enough, Duster put on his humblest smile to welcome her. In return, she decked him in the face.

"Asshole," they heard her mutter before turning the corner, leaving Duster to hold his head in agony.

"Ow," he finally declared after a moment's rest, pulling away his palm to find a smattering of blood on his fingers. She'd managed to split his lip. "She hits hard."

Amber couldn't stop herself from laughing as she caved over in her chair. "What did you expect, brother? I mean, really? She'd tossed those guys about like playthings!"

"It's not that," he said as he wiped his hands on a napkin. "I'm surprised she'd managed t'hit me at all. I've had my semblance up since we got here."

"Really?" His sister cocked an eyebrow, surprised that she hadn't noticed the discoloration in his eyes. "Now that's impressi- wait. Since we got here? Why?" Duster looked over to the alleyway across the street and pointed out the pair of hooded figures, the fur on their tails bristling, and their eyes full of ire.

"Because we're being watched."

Without another word they paid their bill and left the restaurant, heading their separate ways.

* * *

The stars of the late-night sky remained hidden for the third time that week. It wasn't because it was cloudy or anything – no, the sky was surprisingly clear for fall. The city of Vale had recently decided to replace the lights in the harbor district with new ones, lighting up the streets and making it easier to travel. Unfortunately, that had a side effect of obscuring the sights of Duster's favorite resting spot atop the shipping containers. He'd begun considering looking for another place to think at night, but the familiar salt-ridden air kept luring him there, much to his annoyance. He threw an arm over his yellow eyes with a sigh and tried not to think about it. Instead he thought about what'd it be like to dive out of an airship and into a maelstrom while morphing into a shark and devouring a boat in half. Because why not.

Were it still day time, workers would be seen populating the docks like bees, picking metaphorical pollen-containers off of ships and spreading them among the equally as metaphorical flower-warehouses, and vice-versa. However, it was quite the opposite of day, and as such the docks were as dead as the literal queen of the beehive Duster had once smashed as a child. Cruel, that act was in hindsight. Oh well. Every now and then a couple of workers who'd been working overtime for the fifth night that week just to feed their faunus family and pay rent on time might be seen taking a smoke break, or the night shift of security might wave their flashlights around to look for imaginary burglars. Otherwise all there was to be heard was silence.

If you stood close enough to the waterline you might've been able to hear the splashing of waves against the concrete shore and the creaking of the boats that rocked atop them. But if you were far enough away, and laid in the right spot like he were, all sound would fade out entirely. Given enough time and focus, you'd eventually start hearing the buzz of the light posts nearby. You'd probably be irritated by such noise if you'd never lived by the seaside, but Duster did not mind them. Usually he'd be too distracted by the crazy thoughts of his own to notice it, like swimming the whole sea from end to end, or seeing what would happen if he jumped out of an airship and into a whirlpool. Due to the lights getting replaced, however, the subtle buzz had died out in favor of the sound of his heartbeat, and of the nerves firing inside his head. Those he did mind.

Slowly a foul, unfamiliar odor filled his nostrils. He didn't notice it at first, thinking it just to be the smell of fish, but snapped to as it turned rancid. He rose up, uncovering his eyes, reaching for his hat, and looked at the ground around him. A thick mist had settled in at the bottom of the crate stack he'd been resting on. Strange, he thought. It wasn't nearly cold enough for there to be mist coming in from sea. There wasn't a cloud to be seen in the sky either and it was all strangely at knee level. He turned his gaze over to the road that ran between the numerous warehouses at the dock and saw a pair of figures fighting. He couldn't tell anything about the one on the left other than it was holding twin scythes attached to a chain. The one on the right however he recognized as the violet-haired woman from lunch. She deflected the attacks of the chain-scythe user with a glaive of a sort but looked to be losing the fight. Duster sprung to his feet, his long coat fluttering behind him, and put on his hat. He decided it would probably be a good idea to get a closer look this time around.

He hopped from one container to the next, keeping his distance as to not be spotted, but also staying above the strange mist that enveloped the two brawlers. The closer he got, the less room he had to maneuver, so he leapt up to a lamppost and used it as a springboard to climb up a fire escape leading to the roof of one of the warehouses. Moving to the edge nearest the commotion, he fell into active use of his semblance. Slowly the color of the world drained to a dull trio of black, grey, and white, leaving only people of interest highlighted. This way he could read the auras of those around him and decipher their intent. The violet haired woman shone blue, a color she shared with someone else he knew, a fact that caused him to hum with intrigue. Her aura itself, however, was wavering, acting almost like a dying fire. She was angry and weak from the fight. The other combatant, also a woman, he'd discovered upon closer inspection, was as black as the ground beneath her feet. Colorless: unreadable. An icy, unnerving chill ran down Duster's spine. That never meant something good.

It was also all the information he needed before acting.

He shook his head as the natural color of the world filled his eyes once more and pulled a small, red dust crystal from the inside of his coat. He looked it over in his dominant hand, confident that it would suffice as a method of interrupting the fight. As he aimed for the right spot to throw he hoped that the violet haired woman wouldn't be too angry to see him interrupting her battles again. The thought of her punching him again made him gulp. Even as weak as she seemed to have become, she'd surely still break his nose this time around. Still, he wasn't about to walk away from someone interesting. That just wouldn't do.

He threw the burn crystal into the air and drew the revolver in his left holster in the same go. Seconds later he fired. A plume of red and orange exploded above the two women, causing them to drop to their stomachs in surprise. The mist that lapped at their ankles dissipated, forming a neat circle several meters in diameter around them, clearing a space to stand. Without further ado, Duster took a running jump worthy of a huntsman in training and joined the pair below.

As the pair staggered back to their feet, Duster drew his other revolver and raised them, pointing one at each of them. "Mind if I cut in on this dance?" He asked slyly, his eyes darting back and forth, reading their movements. The violet haired woman, whose blue streaks remained prominent as ever, leaned on her weapon with ragged breaths, a mixed look of weariness and shock in her eyes. The other maintained an eerie silence befitting her blank aura. Worriedly he noticed that she was wearing a gas mask. He glanced down quickly at the mist around them, which had started to roll back in, and slowed his breathing. The scythe wielding assailant slowly stepped away, reaching for a pouch on her vest. "Oy," he shouted, pulling back the hammer on the gun pointed at her and placing his finger on its trigger. "Y'didn't answer my question."

A green pill-like object dropped out the bottom of the pouch and exploded into smoke upon hitting the ground. Duster and the violet haired woman raised an arm to their face to avoid inhaling it, assuming that it too was poisonous. When it cleared he saw that the aura-less woman was gone and the mist was receding. At least that meant there was less to worry about.

He sighed and holstered his weapons. "Sorry 'bout that," he spoke to the remaining fighter, "I acted without context last time and couldn't take the chance that you'd be without fault this time." He turned to her. "Though I'm glad I stepped in. Y' don't look-"

Duster was interrupted when the violet-haired woman put a hand on his chest and kicked the back of his legs, sweeping him off his feet and to the ground. It wasn't even a second later before she had a foot on his collar and pointed the blunt end of her glaive at his head. "Ow," he grunted for the second time that day. After all that fighting she'd still had the energy to wind him – just as he'd expected.

When the world finally stopped spinning, Duster opened his eyes a looked up at the woman standing on him. She'd stopped breathing so heavily, but was sweating and bleeding. Cuts both superficial and severe littered her arms, legs and waist, tearing skin and clothing alike. And yet still she stood. He admired that level of determination.

"Y'really like beating th' shit out of people, don't cha," he smiled. She responded by turning the pointy end of her weapon to his neck, its tip barely missing his chin. "Sorry, I ain't always the most tact of people, am I?" She merely glared at him. Were it not for the foot on his chest and the blade at his throat Duster might've gotten the idea that this situation was falling outside his comfort zone. Instead he kept his calm and studied the woman's face. Beads of sweat dripped heavily down her face and arms without end. She breathed heavily, her blue eyes wavering. She was running out of time and they both knew it.

Duster glanced right and saw his hat laying several feet away and hoped that she was too out of it to notice what it hid. If he could convince her to let him go, there was a place no to far from where they were where he could patch her up. Perhaps then he could get some answers about what just happened and what that fight from earlier was all about.

"Are… you okay?" He began, pronouncing his words slowly. She responded by falling over.

Duster groaned and scrambled to his feet. He put a finger to her neck and an ear to her lips. Still she lived, her heartbeat slow and breathing shallow, but how long would that last? He pulled her over his shoulders without another thought, grabbed his hat and the glaive and charted a course out of the docks.

* * *

Sapphire awoke in a confusing daze. Slowly she opened her eyes, her vision clouded by a brown haze. She felt hung-over – she wanted to grab at her head, but her muscles were responding too sluggishly to act. She could see herself moving at the edge of her gaze, but couldn't feel anything she touched. Just how badly had she been injured in her fight with the bitch that killed her brother?

She rolled her head to one side as her vision cleared and found that she was lying near a wall. Instead of staring at wood for the rest of eternity, she chose to roll over again and saw a man in a black vest and red dress shirt sitting at a work bench facing away from her. He was cleaning out a pair of revolvers that had been recently used, making sure they functioned at peak capacity. One he loaded with single colored rounds, the other he loaded with multiple colors. She wondered what each one meant and if any of them were about to be put through her head.

From what she could tell, they were in some sort of shack. The ceiling was low, the lights dim and auburn. The closest door to her was almost within reach, a coat hanger standing even closer. There was another light coming from a room just out of view, so she couldn't tell where it led to. Were they in some sort of safe house? Or was it a one of those places where people tended to disappear?

As feeling returned to her being she attempted to get up. She thought it would be difficult, having felt so numb, but instead rose to a sitting position with ease. She did, however, immediately feel like throwing up.

"Ah," the man said, setting down his weapons and turning in his seat toward her. "You live. Good." Somehow he didn't sound surprised. He pointed to the one other room she could see. "I imagine y'need t'throw up by now. Toilet's over there, with a change of clothes that should fit cha." She hesitated for a moment, unsure of his motives. Why would he have clothes that fit her? The urge to vomit was a little more than overwhelming, however, and she quickly accepted his offer to puke, slamming the door behind her. "Good guess, brain," she barely heard him mutter between heaves.

Once that business was concluded, she changed into the clothes he had provided for her: a simple blue t-shirt, jeans, and a belt with a sheriff's star for a buckle. They did indeed fit – actually, they were a bit looser than she was used to. Sapphire looked over her injuries as she changed. Her skin was as pale as it ever was, but there were a surprising lack of bruises to be found. The lacerations on her back had already healed – she'd still had an aura that early into the fight. Her other wounds were still there, but were not as exposed as she'd thought. Cuts were cleaned and wrapped in gauze, deep stabs were sewn shut. In a couple weeks it would look like nothing had happened at all. She'd expected a messy patch job as best – this was surgical. The man was more thorough than she'd believed. Where'd he pick up such skills?

After exiting the restroom Sapphire staggered her way over to the bed she'd woken up on. Her side started hurting – whatever medicine he'd given her was starting to wear off. Seemingly anticipating this, the man handed her a glass of water and a pair of painkillers. She accepted and consumed them without a word. As she thought about everything that had happened over the last day she realized that the man who was helping her was the same man who had interrupted her fight at the docks, as well as the one at the café. Was he following her? She intended to find out.

"Who are you?" She began, fingers wrapped around the glass of water, now half-empty.

"Name's Duster," he lied, nodding politely. "You?"

"I don't feel like telling." She was determined to give as little information as possible.

"Right, I'll call ya V then."

"For Vendetta?" she scoffed.

"Well, Violet, actually, but I s'pose that'll work too." She shook her head. This wasn't going to do.

"It's Sapphire," she lied.

"Sapphire it is." He let out the equivalent of a smile. It wasn't a half-smile, or a smirk, or grin, or really any kind of smile at all, but somehow she could tell it was his way of smiling.

Sapphire looked up at the man who called himself Duster and suddenly realized just how large he was. Though that he sat on the workbench while speaking with her may have clouded her perception of his height, he was easily half a head taller than her, and that was without the hat he wore. And she was 6'1". Big was the most lenient word that came to mind. If his size, clothing, and weaponry were anything to judge by, she assumed he was some kind of duelist, or gunslinger, engaging in extravagant firefights for a living. Not exactly the ideal style for the ever changing field of battle.

She wondered how he'd managed to not go crazy, being so close to the ceiling of almost every building in Vale.

"So…"

"So." This was turning out to be more awkward than she'd have liked.

"Why'd you help me?"

Duster paused, his arms crossed. His eyes darted from corner to corner, lost in thought, eventually returning to meet hers.

"Why not?"

"Excuse me?" This was going to be difficult, wasn't it?

"After yesterday afternoon I'd figured y'were th' type of person who'd be interestin'. Lo n' behold, come th' night that followed, y'proved that t'be true. What kind of uninterestin' person would willin'ly fight someone who specialized in poisons without a gas mask?"

"Were you following me?"

"Were it that I could've, but I had other obligations t'attend to. I jus' happened t'be staring at th' empty void above near ya when y'caught my attention for th' second time."

"So you wanted to follow me?"

"Maybe," he shrugged. "As I said, I found ya interestin'. Y'threw someone out a window and then decked a bunch'a dudes in th' face th' first time I saw ya. Repeatedly, I might add. I wanted t'know why. However, as I implied, you weren't th' only interestin' thing t'catch my eye."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Hm, I suppose that sounds terrible in hindsight, don't it." He shook his head. "Sorry. T'suffice, there was somethin' else important I had t'take care of. I could get punched by you some other time."

"You wanted me to punch you?"

"No?"

"Then why say-"

"Because I ain't one to shy away from a dollop of daisy laced sarcasm, alright? Jeez, nitpick everythin' I say why don't cha?"

She wasn't exactly sure what that meant either, but decided not to push it any further.

"Look, th' first time around ya could've handled yerself jus' fine. I jus' wanted t'see what'd happen if I intervened. That was somethin' I shouldn't have done and I've already paid th' consequences for it." Duster brushed along where she'd punched him that afternoon. Any injury she'd caused had long since healed. "Th' second time, I saw someone set on dyin'. Yer aura was fadin' and hers was ice cold. Y'were fightin' a battle that you'd already lost. Damned if I ain't gonna help someone who needs it."

That was a completely unexpected turn of character. From how he'd been going on he seemed the joking type – someone who loved to hear the sound of his own voice. But that was… terse, to put it lightly.

"Besides, poison?" Duster chuckled, back in his other mood. "There ain't a cheaper way t'fight in my book. Wanted t'put a bullet in that opponent of yours jus' fer that."

"Right," Sapphire muttered, tilting her head slightly. This was turning out to be one of the oddest conversations she'd had in a long time. It reminded her of family.

"What was that all about, anyway? Ain't my place t'say, I know, but it all seemed rather desperate t'me."

"If it's not your place to say, then why say it?"

The look he gave her wasn't very friendly.

"It's complicated," she sighed.

"Ain't it always," he mused. "Alright, I won't pry."

"Thank you," she nodded.

Duster looked down at an imaginary watch on his right wrist, pulling back its sleeve to show more of his tan skin. "It's two dots past a hair," her brother might've joked were he still alive, with all those freckles of his.

"Okay," Duster said, hopping off the work bench. He turned around to grab his pistols and holstered them at his sides. "I'm guessin' yer feelin' well enough t'walk around?"

"Well, I haven't thrown up again, have I?"

"That was jus' th' antidote I gave ya," he explained. "Glad Amber was able t'walk me through which one t'give ya. I ain't as experienced with treatin' poisons as her."

"Good to know."

"At least th' morphine worked. Hell of a cure for pain, that one, but turns nasty when yer allergic to it – and no, don't ask."

"Wasn't going to." Yes she was. "Wait, who's Amber?"

"My sister," he said, taking a long coat from the coat hanger near the door, swinging it over his shoulders before popping his arms through its sleeves, "which leads me t'a suggestion I have fer ya – if y' don't mind hearin' it out."

She hesitated for a moment. So far it seemed like the man wasn't just about to up and murder her, given all he'd done to save her life. Perhaps she'd benefit by hearing what he had to say.

"Alright, shoot."

"I've got some people that I think y'might want t'meet – my sister and a friend of ours, specifically. I think we'd be able t'help you find this woman you were fightin' again, if y'd accept our help. We're holed up in a good spot, but I'd understand if y'd prefer that I take y'somewhere y'could make it back home safely."

"Holed up?"

"Yeah, uh, let's jus' say that you ain't the only one with enemies in this town. Th' place is safe n' secure, but, again, if y' don't want t', jus' say th' word."

She mulled over the idea. It had taken her months to find that bitch after their last encounter, so the idea of finding her again on her own wasn't too appealing. Having some help would probably speed things up, but what did he have to gain out of it?

"You've helped me twice already, why help again?"

"S'what I do."

That was a bottom line she could respect.

"Alright then," she said, rising to her feet. She noticed her purple jacket sitting at the edge of the bed and threw it on. It was torn and blood spattered, but she wasn't about to leave it behind. Her brother's scarf was still in its pockets. "I'll follow, for now."

"Alright," Duster smiled, this time for real. He tossed her glaive to her, which had been laying on the workbench too, pulled out a phone from one of his pockets and sent out a quick text, motioning to the door. She hit a button near the blade of her weapon, collapsing it so she could holster it on her back. "Then follow."

* * *

After paving their way through the back alleys of Vale for nearly an hour, Sapphire and Duster expectedly found themselves on the second floor of an apartment complex at the back end of an urban cull-de-sac. The green carpet hallways and bland pale walls almost made Sapphire believe that the building was once a cheap hotel among cheap hotels, but the well lit ceilings and redwood doors told her that such days were long since over. It didn't take long for Duster to get them into one of his home-away-from-homes, though the process itself seemed complicated. There were the standard locks, yes, but between opening the first and second he had to rotate a series of rings in the door's design that were hidden to the untrained eye. Only then would they be allowed entrance without setting off the alarms inside.

"Oy, fix your phone!" was the greeting they were issued after stepping inside. After locking the door, Duster quickly checked his phone for any missed messages and found one sent by Amber, the voice that came to say hello. Sapphire peeked over his shoulder to read it. "Back route unsafe; take underground," it declared. The previous two mentioned Sapphire's recovery and that they were on their way to meet her and someone named Nigel.

"Aw, hell," Duster fumed. "Even with my ears I can't hear th' sound of silence. Should've replaced th' damn thing long ago." He threw it into the trash can nearest to him before hanging up his coat. "Sorry, sis," he called back. "I'll go set th' fire."

"Fire?" Sapphire asked worriedly. "Is there something wrong?"

"Maybe, maybe not," Duster sighed, shaking his head. "Look, I got t'go downstairs n' take care of a few things. Head on down th' hall and into th' room 'round th' corner where my sister n' friend should be. I'll cook somethin' fer y'when I get back."

"Uh, okay?" None of what he said was reassuring, but she figured that it wasn't exactly the best time to prod for any more information. As calm as he seemed to be, she couldn't help but notice his fingers start acting twitchy.

Without saying another word, Duster walked past her and back out the door to take care of whatever it was he had to do. Sapphire shrugged and headed down the hall like he said to do and discovered two rooms. On the left was a modernized open kitchen that had been stripped down to its barest necessities. On the right was a living room, complete with an olden-day fireplace, chairs, coffee table and a sofa. Occupying the sofa was a scraggly blonde haired girl with green goggles over her eyes. In her hands was a prosthetic arm designed to look like the armor of an age old knight, its inner workings exposed and ripe for tinkering. Emblazoned on its shoulder was a sword that had sprouted wings like a Nevermore, much like the tattoo on the woman's own left shoulder. Sapphire wondered if that was her trademark to identify her work by.

The cool light of day shone in from the large windows opposite her, its curtains drawn to show the empty street below. In the far corner sat a large man with an over abundance of muscles reading a book of poetry. His flame colored Mohawk matched the lights coming from the fireplace next to him. She took note of the checkered pattern of the metal tiling along the walls of the converted apartment. They seemed oddly out of place in the empty atmosphere the place was giving off.

The woman holding the arm sighed and tossed it onto the coffee table before her and leaned back, propping up her feet along side it. "Hey," she said when Sapphire walked to greet her, pushing her goggles up to her forehead. Her eyes matched their emerald hue. "That was a pretty sick punch you hit my brother with."

"Thanks," Sapphire replied, momentarily reminiscing about the day before. "You're Amber, I take it?"

"Indeed I am," she lied with a smile, extending a hand to shake. Her bushy grey tail slowly wagged back and forth. He never mentioned anything about her being a Faunus. "Welcome; how do you do?"

"Been better, been worse," Sapphire shrugged, accepting her hand. "But not by much. I'm Sapphire."

"Yeah, his accent's hard to deal with, isn't it?" she joked. "Nice to meet you." Amber motioned for her to take a seat opposite her, which she graciously took. She had gotten used to long treks from her combat training, but all the weaving between alleys she and Duster had done to get there had left her a little drained. Or maybe she was just recovering from her wounds. "Want some water?"

"Sure, thanks." Her host got up from her seat to fetch refreshments for them both. Upon her return Sapphire inquired the identity of the man that was sitting in the corner all by his lonesome.

"That philosophical hunk of meat is Nigel," Amber smirked, turning to look at him. He lowered his book just enough to show her that he was pointing to his throat before waving his hand in a cutting motion across it. "He's the friend my brother mentioned. Don't worry if he seems unsociable – he's a great guy. He just doesn't talk much."

"Ah, I see." Sapphire nodded to the arm on the table. "What're you working on?"

"Oh, just a replacement part for my number one customer," she said, stretching out her shoulders. "Always helps to have one of those handy, excusing the pun." They both had themselves a short chuckle. "So, what brings you here? I hear from my brother that he found you in quite the pickle."

"Yeah, I may have overexerted myself in a fight with someone I've been looking to find for a long time. He told me that you could help me find her again."

"Did he now," Amber scowled to herself. "He does know that we have our own troubles, right?"

"He mentioned something about that, yes. I'm guessing it has something to do with that 'fire?'"

"That should be nothing to worry about, I hope. If it is, then I'll just have to deck him later." She patted her left bicep as a show of force. The sound that resulted was oddly hollow. "How long exactly have you been tracking this person?"

"Well, I've been hunting this woman for almost five years now. Our encounters are usually brief and scarcely occur – they've never been anything as daunting as last night."

"So you've fought before?"

"Yes, several times. I'd like to believe that I came close at least once, but she is an extremely skilled fighter. She specializes in close quarters fighting and poisons. I'd assumed she's someone with advanced huntsman training, or some private tutelage, but I can find no such person in the huntsman registry."

"Well, you know what they say about assumptions…"

Sapphire frowned, folding her arms.

"We all make them. Do you have anything specific to go on? A name, descriptions, habits, motives?"

"Not much," she shook her head, agitated. "I've never seen her face or heard her name, but she always wears a gas mask and pouch-laden armors. She's a chain scythe wielder, I know that much, and uses poison fogs to slowly whittle down the stamina of her opponents and trap them. I, uh, don't know much about her habits, although on the rare occasion that I manage to find a place she's lived in, it's always been empty, which leads me to believe that she never stays in one place for long and travels light. As for a motive… all I know is she doesn't stop until her mission is complete. Most of the times that I've found her out in the wild she's been in the middle of killing someone else. Even when I've managed to fight her off she's still managed to get them."

"A contract killer, then?"

"Could be; I'm surprised she backed off last night. I thought that was our final fight."

"Well," Amber paused for a moment to think the information over, scratching her chin. "I don't think I've ever come across someone like this before – someone from out of town, maybe?"

Sapphire shrugged. The Faunus turned her head to Nigel, who had started pacing near the windows. "What do you think, Nigel?" He turned to face her and patted his right shoulder before giving her a thumbs-up. He had put on a pair of black gloves since last Sapphire had looked at him. "Ah, duh" Amber muttered before facing their guest again. "Well, if he's in, then so am I."

"Thanks," Sapphire smiled, relieved. Maybe the days of her nightmare were finally coming to an end.

"But," Amber said, holding up a hand, "as we've mentioned, we do have our own problems at the moment. We'll help, but should they come to surface, they take priority, understand?"

"What kind of problems are you facing, exactly?"

"The bad kind."

"That's usually not a good thing, I hear," Sapphire joked.

"Yeah; usually."

Duster's return was marked by the sound of the front door opening again. Amber got up from her seat to greet her brother properly, which meant smacking his chest for being an idiot. He scratched his head sheepishly, taking the abuses by his sibling lightly. It was then that Sapphire realized that the wolf Faunus was almost as tall as her brother. She wondered just how tall their parents must have been for them to be so large. Nigel by comparison was shorter than all of them, barely, but a great deal wider from his muscle count. It was amazing that his dress shirt fit him perfectly. It was likely specially tailored just for him, probably.

"Everythin's set up," Duster confirmed for Amber. "How goes things up here?"

"We just finished agreeing to help. It was a unanimous decision."

"Good, 'cause I pro'bly would've ended up helpin' her anyway."

"Of course you would have. You're you. It's what you do."

"Yep." Duster folded his arms in defiance.

"Even when it's painfully obvious just how deep in rotten steak sauce we're in you still help people who need help."

"I know it ain't easy, sis, but I jus' gotta do what I gotta do."

"Aye, aye, Mr. Pickles." Amber saluted half-heartedly before turning away, muttering "you and your blasted doing of the do. What does that even mean, anyways?" Duster chuckled to himself, letting his arms fall back to his sides.

"What was that all about?" Sapphire asked when he walked by. Amber slid her goggles back over her eyes and went back to work on the arm before her.

"When y'deal with th' kind of people that we deal with," he frowned, "y'have t'take certain… precautions."

"What kind of precautions?"

"Th' fiery kind."

"Sounds… hot," she tried to joke.

"Well, it should be. Burn dust in that large of quantity is hard t'get fer cheap." Duster walked over to the kitchen and nicked a pan off of one of the hooks on the wall. "Now c'mon. I said I was gonna cook y'somethin' and I ain't about to lie about food now. Lemme whip up a few pancakes an' we can talk s'more."

Sapphire really wanted to point out the danger of storing burn dust in huge amounts, but something about the idea of eating was more important at the time.

Suddenly Nigel snapped at Duster, waving him over to the window.

"What is it?" he asked, pausing at the shelf that held the ingredients for his pancakes. Nigel didn't say anything, but kept waving him over. "Yer voice broke?" He nodded. Duster sighed and put down the pan in his hand. "What d'ya see?"

Nigel punched his shoulder again and a glitched noise came out of it. It was similar to the sound of static when you're on a call while passing under a tunnel. Garbled words followed the sound before a high-pitched whine cut them short. Sapphire covered her ears in response; Amber seemed unfazed. Duster walked up to the window to see what he saw and immediately grabbed for his guns.

"Trouble," Nigel finally said. His lips did not move when he spoke, the words emanating from his shoulder. His voice was deep and modulated. It was as if an AI had spoken instead.

Six White Fang members clad in full uniform opened fire on the building, sending a hellfire of bullets tearing through the large windows Nigel and Duster stood by. Nigel rolled to the side, taking cover behind at the edge of the window, backing up as bullets riddled the air before him. Amber rose to her feet before crumpling over the back of the sofa, taking a round in her left shoulder, grunting in surprise. Duster leapt backwards, crashing into Sapphire, who'd moved behind him to see what Nigel was talking about, and forced her to join his sister behind the sofa.

"Nigel!" Duster shouted over the noise above him. Sapphire wondered why he called to him first, rather than direct his attention to his sister, who was clutching her shoulder angrily.

"I'm fine!" he roared back. He kept his distance from the windows, making his way back to the fireplace, which had mysteriously gone out, as new holes appeared in the wall before him.

"The hell is going on?" Sapphire yelled to her host. On the list of things she'd expected to experience today, getting shot at by one of the most notorious gangs in Vale was nowhere to be found.

"Our problems," he growled, pulling a burn crystal out of his coat, "seem t'have caught up with us."

"Seriously? The White Fang? You didn't think that mentioning that they were the problem you were dealing with was a good idea?"

"Well, I'm sorry if I've been a little bit occupied, what with saving your life and all."

"Oy, cut it out!" Amber commanded over the gunfire. Duster looked past Sapphire and finally saw the wound she had taken.

"You okay, sis?" he asked, not worried in the slightest.

The Faunus grunted as she pulled the bullet out of her arm with her semblance, red sparks pinging off her fingertips. She discarded the spent round and inspected the circuitry inside. A lot of wires had been torn beyond repair. She tried to move the limb, barely able to get her fingers to twitch.

"Well, this arm is a bust," she fumed. "Good thing I was working on that replacement, eh?"

"Think y'can patch up th' wall?" her brother asked, showing her the Dust crystal in his hand.

"I wouldn't be the steak gods' chosen if I couldn't deal with a dead arm – again."

"Yeah, yeah, okay; on three." Duster readied the crystal, attempting to peek over the sofa without getting his hat shot off to get a good view of the attackers, who had been slowly moving up ever since they first opened fire. Amber reached out with her one working arm to the metal tiling on the wall. Red sparks danced along them as they began to float towards them.

"Three!" Duster shouted, tossing the crystal without counting up. As he'd hoped it caught a bullet just outside the windows, exploding and creating a screen of smoke to obscure their enemy's aim. Amber rose to her feet and pushed the metal tiling past her with her semblance, which flew at the windows at a blistering pace. They lined up side by side, forming a neat metal wall, preventing any more bullets from penetrating the room. After a few seconds of continued fire, the sound of brass clashing with metal ceased. Unintelligible shouting followed, along with the sound of hurried footsteps. The White Fang were moving to enter the building.

Duster pulled himself to his feet with the help of the sofa, which had been surprisingly not riddled with an uncountable number of bullet holes. The chair across from him, however, had surely seen better days. He let out an angry breath, patting some dust off his pants and holstered the one gun he'd still been holding. "Everyone good?" he asked. Nigel nodded, stepping away from the fireplace, a blue flame that had taken solace inside it dying out immediately.

"Well," Amber said, pulling a giant hex key out of the wall with her semblance, "I'm gonna need help replacing this arm, but otherwise I'm good."

"Right," he brother nodded, walking over to help her. He took the key from her and tore off the synthetic coating on her shoulder, giving her room to punch a switch under her armpit, disconnecting the wires that allowed her nerves to move the limb. A hexagon-shaped bolt was hidden underneath. It was the only thing left keeping her prosthetic arm attached.

"Someone mind explaining what just happened?" Sapphire asked, still a little bewildered at what just happened.

"You want the long version or the short version," Amber asked back, bracing herself as Duster inserted the key into her shoulder.

"I want the version that makes sense," she declared. She looked at the damage caused to the hideaway. The bullet holes made the barren atmosphere of the room unsettling. "Those guys out there really want you dead."

"Well- ah!" Amber began, exclaiming when her brother turned the key, detaching her arm from her body. Sapphire held back the urge to gasp from seeing her with only one arm. Suddenly she noticed that her hair had spiked up and turned a shade of crimson. She wondered what had caused that.

"Well," the Faunus began again as Duster fetched the arm she had been working on, taking on a more serious attitude, "seven years ago, there was an airship crash at the docks in Vale."

"I remember that," Sapphire said, recalling a news report that called it a national tragedy. She remembered seeing the flames from her mother's house outside the city.

"Do you remember the part where the White Fang claimed responsibility for it?"

"Yeah." The Faunus didn't have a lot of friends to begin with. The White Fang sure had a habit of making their situation worse.

"Well, Duster and I were on that flight."

"Oh." Duster slid Amber's replacement arm into place. She held it still while he flipped up its shoulder guard, positioning the hex key into the hole behind it.

"As you might be able to guess- ah!" Amber exclaimed again as her brother turned the key, latching the new limb into place. She punched the lever under her arm, commanding the prosthetic to interface with her nervous system, a process that wasn't exactly comfortable. She managed to grimace through it without screaming, at least.

"As I – ah! As I was saying, that's when I lost my arm – ah!" She patted her limb, flipping down her shoulder guard, the engraved sword taking the place of the tattoo on her previous arm. Sapphire chose not to comment on how out of place she looked with a metal arm that looked to have come from an older age where knights roamed the lands freely. "Suffice to say, we haven't exactly been able to lose hold of our anger since then. We've made it our duty to oppose the tyranny of the world, be it from your kind, or ours."

"Well, that's romanticizing it a bit," Duster cut in, handing his sister the oversized hex key, which she promptly used like a cane to help herself up, "but that's essentially what happened. They pissed us off, now we piss them off. It's a mutually destructive relationship."

"And the rest?" Sapphire asked as Duster helped her up. Nigel joined them, cracking his knuckles.

"Th' rest can wait." Duster pulled out one of his revolvers and pointed at the door. "We've been talkin' fer too long. Th' White Fang are probably gettin' close. We have t'move."

"Well, I wasn't about to suggest we stay…" Sapphire joked, pulling out her glaive. "But fair enough."

"To the tunnels, then?" Amber asked her brother.

"It's what I was thinkin'," he nodded. "We may still have t'fight past some of them, but if we can make it out back and into th' sewers, we should be able t'make it to Raoul's."

"Sounds sound enough," she agreed.

"I take it that's somewhere safer than here?" Sapphire asked.

"Yes," Nigel stated, his voice as monotone as it got.

"He's a friend," Duster said. "Well, godfather, really, but a friend nonetheless. Th' White Fang don't know 'em. We'll be fine."

"Well, I'll take what I can get, then." Sapphire rested her weapon on her shoulders, motioning to the door with her free hand.

"It's not like we were giving you a choice," Amber muttered quietly enough that she couldn't hear as they moved to the exit. Duster gave her a nasty look that told her to back off.

"Let's go," Duster said, and lead the four of them out into the hall.


	2. Sand, part Deux

The quartet didn't even make it to the stairwell before running into trouble. Duster had been leading the group cautiously towards the door at the end of the hall, moving slowly enough to remain silent, but fast enough so that it wouldn't take a few eternities to reach the exit. The footsteps below told him that the White Fang had entered the building, but he had underestimated just how much time their conversation had cost them. Just before he was about to open the door a black boot kicked it open, knocking him to his back. He used the momentum of his fall to flip up in time to see a pair of rifles raise to greet him. Before they could open fire he flicked a burn crystal out of his coat and towards the shooters. They quickly rolled aside, giving Duster enough time to shout to Nigel to break into the room next to them and pull them inside.

By the time the White Fang realized that the crystal wasn't going to explode, Duster, Amber and Nigel had taken cover inside the room, which had been completely empty except for a few well placed tables. Sapphire, however, stood in plain view. Before he could leap up to pull her out of the way of the immanent hellfire and scold her for being an idiot, she had raised an open palm and started shimmering blue. Suddenly a wall of solid blue light filled the space where the door once stood, deflecting a single bullet back into the shoulder of the one Faunus who thought it was a good idea to try and shoot through it. It took a lot of energy for Sapphire not to laugh at his stupidity.

"Well, that's useful," Amber commented in an aside to Nigel.

"So, we're not getting out that way," Sapphire said, turning to the group, lowering her hand. "Where are we supposed to go now?"

Duster stood up and walked over to the window at the other end of the room. He pulled aside its shades, only to find a splendidly comedic view of a brick wall. "Right," he muttered to himself. "Sis, what room are we in?"

"Two-twelve, I think," she answered.

"Great, th' one room without a secret exit," Duster huffed in annoyance, turning back to the door. Nigel groaned, rubbing the shoulder he spoke from. "How long will that barrier hold?"

"As long as I have the energy to keep it there, it'll hold," Sapphire said, leaning against a wall, still glowing.

"Okay, Amber, check on Nigel. I think he hit himself a little too hard fixin' his speech."

"Right," his sister nodded, walking over to Nigel. She helped him remove part of his shirt, exposing a metal panel on the right side of his back, just below his shoulder. She unscrewed its bolts with her semblance and set it aside, taking a look at the circuitry inside.

"I'm guessing we can't just go through that brick wall?" Sapphire asked.

"Not without damaging a whole lot of public property."

"We aren't already?"

"Nah; technically this place is listed by th' city as quarantined fer structural instability, hence why no one else is around. We moved in an' slowly renovated it over th' years while no one was lookin', an' since no one has come t'kick us out, well, except fer these fine folk, we've kept it as our own."

"I see. Well, let me know if you have any fits of inspiration."

Duster holstered his pistol and paced the room, his arms folded. He mentally recapped the layout of the building, searching for the best route out of the dead end they'd apparently waltzed into. Sapphire watched as what looked like the leader of the White Fang members outside did the same, planning the next move of his troops. There were five of them in total, two on either side of the door, plus the leader. When he stopped striding and began to give out orders she looked back to Duster. He had pulled out a different pistol and was loading color coded rounds into it. "Got any ideas yet? 'Cause it sounds like they do."

"I got some notion," he nodded, flicking the chamber of the weapon shut and holstering it. He turned to his sister, who had just finished repairs on Nigel's voice box. "You good?" he asked.

"Probably," the Mohawked man shrugged, rising to his feet as he buttoned up his shirt. His voice was clearer that time, but still as synthetic sounding as before. Sapphire also noticed that it came from his mouth, rather than his shoulder.

"It was just a few loose cables in there causing his voice to route improperly, nothing major," Amber said, reporting the damages. "You know, I think the laundry room is below us. There's a lot of metal down there – and an exit."

"You thinkin' we should get down there?"

"It's better than staying up here, brother."

"True." Duster continued pacing the room, this time paying attention to the sound his footsteps made. "But there's bound t'be others we didn't see prowlin' around. An' someone needs t'stay close enough t'light that fire."

"I thought you said you took care of that," Sapphire commented.

"It's ready t'burn, yeah, but its receiver is short range. Can't get too far away from th' buildin', or else it won't go."

"Then we should split up," Nigel chimed in, clearing his throat. "Amber and I will lure whoever else might be in the building hunting us up a block north. You two deal with the leftovers here and burn the evidence."

"Okay, that'll do," Duster nodded. Finally his steps rang hollow and he stopped pacing the room.

"That's a, uh, plan and all," Sapphire frowned, "but how do we get out of this room."

Duster pointed down to where he was standing and had Nigel take his place.

"We break th' floor."

"How?"

"With him," Duster said matter-of-fact, pointing over his shoulder at Nigel. He patted his right arm in acknowledgement.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Okay, but what will we do about the people outside?"

"I was thinkin' that after Nigel and my sis drop down, you'd stop your barrier and we'd fight our way out."

"They have guns, remember?"

"Last I checked, so do we," he smirked, patting his hidden holsters. Sapphire sighed, putting her head in her free palm. "You have a better plan?"

"No, but…" She looked at Duster's coat, catching a glimpse of the dust inside. "Do you have any frost crystals?"

"Yeah," he said, tossing one to her. She caught it and slapped it into the open space in her glaive's blade. A blue light pulsated at the blade's edge momentarily, the crystal chilling it, a cold fog leaking from its edges. It vibrated rapidly and unnoticeably like a tuning fork, emitting a low hum.

"Okay then, but I still don't like this."

"Fine, but we don't have th' time t'dawdle. Freeze the one in th' middle, then I'll toss out my last burn crystal to blind 'em. I'll take th' two on th' left, you take th' two on th' right."

"Right."

"Yes."

"Okay." Sapphire wasn't sure if he thought she hadn't understood or if he was messing with her.

"You two ready?" Duster asked, turning to his sister and friend. Nigel kneeled down and pointed a fist at the spot in the floor Duster had pointed out to him. Amber stood next to him, a grin on her face, her green-tinted goggles over her eyes.

"Let's wreck shop," she declared.

"Alrighty then," he nodded. He took position in the short hallway leading to the door adjacent from Sapphire and drew his last burn crystal. "Hit it."

Brown dust and wood shavings exploded into the space Nigel and Amber occupied, the muscular man's light jab instantly shearing a large hole in the floor. Duster didn't look back to see if they landed safely, instead relying on the faith he had in them to land on their feet, rather than on their heads. Seconds later, before the White Fang members on the other side of the wall could realize what was happening, Sapphire let the barrier she had created disintegrated, the blue light surrounding her dissipating in turn. She then thumbed a button near the bottom of her glaive's blade and thrust the weapon forward and out the door. It low hum quickly became a loud whine. A brilliant beam of cylindrical, light-blue energy shot out of the glowing blade, slamming the leader of their enemies into the wall, freezing him instantly. She pulled away from the exit, sidling up against the wall as Duster took her place, tossing his burn crystal into the hall, which stuck into the newly formed ice-prison. In the same motion he drew the revolver in his left holster, aimed it at the crystal, and fired.

Duster mirrored Sapphire's decision to take cover as a white light blinded the occupants of the hallway, the burn crystal destabilizing on contact with his bullet, his hat barely clinging to his head. The ice-prison vaporized into a thick mist that exploded through the entryway, obscuring the entire floor. The pair could hear the remaining Faunus outside coughing and stumbling as they tried to recover from the attack. Duster closed his eyes and focused, letting the color of the world drain grey so he could see through the mist, using his semblance to his advantage. He trusted that Sapphire had her own means to see and wordlessly slid into the hall. He fired his revolver twice more, one fatal bullet for each of his opponents. He watched as a pair of blurry figures crumpled the floor, one green, one yellow, each sounding a final death knell.

Without missing a beat Sapphire followed after, engaging the two Faunus on the right, her weapon no longer shaking and whining. As she entered the closer quarters of the hall, she hit a switch to retract the pole of her glaive, which in turn took upon the look of a scimitar embedded with a dust crystal. She slashed upwards through the first Faunus's gun, freezing it the instant the blade touched it, shattering it in two. She then brought it down and across his chest in an arcing motion, sending him to his knees before kneeing him in the face to finish him off. The second she ran through with ease; she sprung forward, slapping his gun aside from the outside as he brought it to shoulder level. She did a half-turn in the same move, holding her blade in a reverse grip, and stabbed it between his ribs. Her foes dealt with, she cleaned her blade with a sharp flick of her wrist, the sheer force of it shaking off the blood that clung to it in one go.

Slowly the mist dissipated, eventually allowing the pair to admire each other's handiwork. Where five bodies once stood, only four lay dead on the ground. Sapphire ejected the frost crystal in the center of her blade and let it clatter to the floor devoid of color; completely see-through. As Duster's vision returned to normal he holstered his weapon, adjusting the brim of his hat back to a more comfortable position.

"That's a hell of a weapon you've got there," he commented, watching as it took the shape of a glaive again.

"Made it myself," she nodded, accepting the praise.

"Amber helped me design mine," he said, patting the holsters behind his coat. "I can't say they're as fancy as yours, but they get th' job done."

"Right, where to next?"

"Seein' as Nigel an' my sister should be headed out through th' side, why don't we head down the staircase on th' other side of the hall an' check th' front."

"And into the alley? I didn't see a lot of cover there."

"Well, yeah, it's an alley. Front door has a window – we can catch a glimpse of th' outside world from there and plan our next move."

"Will we be able to 'light the fire' from there?" she asked.

"Theoretically, yes."

"Theoretically?"

"It's not like I've had t'burn this place down before."

"Do you even know what you're doing?"

"Theoretically."

"Brilliant," she sighed. "Let's just get down there already."

After Sapphire brushed past him, Duster went ahead and picked up the spent dust crystal before joining her.

* * *

The clang that resounded from the washing machine Amber collided with upon falling through the floor immediately caught the attention of two White Fang grunts standing in the hall outside the laundry room. As she and Nigel pulled themselves to their feet, the pair of enemies burst through the door, their weapons raised. She quickly flipped up the lid of the washer closest to her with her semblance as cover, only to duck down as their bullets tore through it with ease. She quickly scanned the room for the back exit and pushed Nigel toward it, scrambling along the floor, barely avoiding additional bursts of gunfire. Her Mohawked compatriot smashed through the locked exit with his shoulder and pulled her through with him, though not before she dislodged a dryer from the wall and sent it sliding across the floor with her semblance, toppling over one of the gunmen in pursuit.

The pair spent only seconds gathering the bearings, making a run for the street before their hunters could recover. A few pedestrians were given a show as they leapt across the slow traffic blocking their path to the defunct building on the other side, only to flee as they recognized the gang that followed.

Familiar with the building they'd fled to, Amber and Nigel turned the tides of their game of cat and mouse, silently evading the grunts through unfurnished halls, leaping between floors and leading them down dead ends. Eventually a second pair of foes joined them, having seen their pursuit from their watch on a nearby rooftop. Amber found it odd for the White Fang to have sent so many people to deal with them. They'd been busy spending the recent months robbing Dust stores and causing havoc to the Schnees. If they had enough people on standby to deal with malcontents, that either meant that more Faunus had decided to join their cause, or that they were shifting focus. Both made Amber worry. However, she had more pressing matters to attend to. Now that there were four opponents to deal with, she and Nigel would have to switch to a more aggressive approach.

After managing to split the quartet into pairs between floors, Amber decided it was time to start whittling down their numbers. She told Nigel to keep the two upstairs busy while she incapacitated the two below. She tracked her pray by listening to their heavy footsteps through the thin floor that separated them. She tiptoed above them for a short while before stopping at the edge of a hole leading downstairs. A sly grin lit up her face as they passed below her, oblivious to the doom perched above them.

As the second Faunus passed out of sight she leapt down, grabbing onto the edge of the hole to swing from and propel her forward into a dive roll. She then sprung out of the roll toward the grunt closest to her, spinning up the energy crystal in her prosthetic's forearm with her mind. Sparks danced off her finger tips as she reached out to her target. The grunt turned around just in time to see her plant her palm on his chest and electrocute him unconscious with yellow lightning. The other tried to shoot her as she pushed the limp body of his partner aside, but she tore the gun apart with her semblance as the first round left the gun's chamber, causing it to misfire and explode in his hands. She stopped his screams by latching her prosthetic hand around his face and slamming him to the ground, delivering him the same fate as his partner.

After a few seconds of silence had passed, Amber found herself surprised that the other two White Fang hadn't come to investigate the noise. She made her way upstairs and found Nigel standing near the disabled bodies of the remaining foes, who had been crushed into the wall. She let out a low whistle in amazement, catching her friend's attention. He turned to face her, sliding his black glove back over his right hand. "And here I thought you didn't like fighting anymore," she commented in disbelief. He shrugged silently in response. "Come on, I have an idea."

Amber and Nigel made their way back out onto the street in front of the building. Before they crossed to get back to the others, the blonde Faunus turned around and faced the defunct structure. "Do you think anyone would miss this building if it were to collapse?" She asked pointlessly. Nigel shrugged again, choosing not to speak. "I didn't think so."

Amber planted her feet firmly into the ground and centered herself, focusing on the metal around her. She raised her metal hand toward the building as she channeled her semblance through the pipes beneath her and into the steel that kept the structure standing. Slowly she closed her palm, the limb shaking as if she was crushing something strong between her fingers. Red sparks danced along her body, her hair spiking up and turning red for the second time that day. The sound of a building buckling under its own weight filled the air loudly, turning the heads of many passersby in the street. Amber set her arm by her side once her hand had finished closing and turned to her friend, who waited patiently with a book in his hands. "I can't see Duster or the stray he picked up from here," she said as the building collapsed beside her. "We should probably go check if they're still by the hideout."

Nigel nodded, not looking up from his book, and followed her back across the street in search of the missing pair, completely ignoring the destruction in their wake.

* * *

Duster and Sapphire made it to the front door of the abandoned complex with relative ease. The one White Fang member who'd stayed behind after Amber and Nigel had drawn the others off was a pushover. He'd seen them coming, yes, hearing their footsteps in the staircase from the other side of the hall. He'd even gone through the trouble of situating himself close enough to the door as possible as not to be seen. However, he hadn't exactly been quiet about it. He'd fumbled in getting his weapon in the right position just out of sight, costing him precious seconds to prepare for their arrival. He also hadn't accounted for the door opening inwards. When Duster opened the door all he had to do was look left to see the awkward ambush. Before the Faunus could lower his gun to fire, Duster had slammed his body into him, simultaneously knocking the wind out of him and cracking three of his ribs. For the second time that hour Sapphire had to hold in a laugh at someone's stupidity.

Duster peeked out of the small window in the upper half of the front door, looking for any further signs of trouble. Sapphire hopped over the deserted reception desk nearby, looking over the dust covered books neatly stacked in its built in shelf and the equally as dust covered computer next to them. She keyed the power button of its decade's old monitor a couple times to no avail. It wasn't plugged in, nor did it have a mouse or keyboard to use it properly. She pilfered through the desk's drawers only to come up disappointed. They were as empty as the rest of the building. Out of distractions to keep her occupied, she joined Duster by the door.

"See anything?" she asked, unable to see outside with him in the way.

"I count two more gunmen half way down th' alley," Duster responded. "They look bored – alert, but bored." He stepped out of the way to give her a chance to see what he meant. She walked up to the window and peered through, spotting two more gang members clad in their signature Grimm-like uniforms. They gripped their red and white automatics tightly, pacing up and down the middle of the alley. He was right – they looked bored, fidgeting and itching for a fight. She figured they should give one to them.

"So, how should we do this? One each?"

"Actually, I think I'll take them both, if y' don't mind."

"Feeling greedy?" Sapphire moved away from the door and leaned against the wall, extending her glaive to set by her side.

"Maybe," he shrugged as he flipped open the chamber of his revolver. Five rounds: more than enough for what he had in mind. He flicked the weapon shut and waited patiently for the two White Fang to pass near each other before making his move.

Duster kicked open the front door, surprising the two gunmen, and strode out into the alley. Two steps from the building and his opponents had turned to see him. By the third, their guns were pointed right at his chest. Black lines steamed off of Duster's shoulders as he flared up the other half of his semblance, giving just enough pause as they fumbled to re-acquire their target to aim his revolver exactly where he needed to. To them, he looked like a blurred out shadow – as if he wasn't there. He knew without it he wouldn't have stood a chance. For the next part of the fight, however, he needed to prey upon a presumed empathy between his foes.

Duster fired his first round into the left kneecap of the Faunus on the left, twisting his leg to the side with an agonizing yell. He faltered with his lack of stable footing, falling into the path of his partner's gun. The second Faunus instinctively reached to stop his comrade from collapsing, taking his eyes off of Duster long enough for him to adjust his aim and fire again. The second round bore cleanly through the falling Faunus' neck and into the other's side, killing the firs and piercing the lung of the second. As the second grunt recoiled from his wound, dropping both his gun and friend, Duster put one final round through his heart, allowing him to join his kin in death.

Sapphire stepped out into the alley as Duster twirled his gun around his finger in victory, awestruck by how he'd dealt with the pair. He turned ever so slightly to see her and holstered his weapon, flicking his coat over it to conceal it.

"For someone who talks as much as you do," she began, planting her blade into the ground, "you sure are efficient in a fight."

"We all have our secrets," he smiled sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. "C'mon, we should see how-"

Duster took one step forward before a bullet grazed the top of his head. A loud crack bounced off the walls as his hat flew off, a lone White Fang standing gun raised near the bend at the end of the alley. Sapphire inhaled sharply and yanked her glaive out of the ground. She almost thrust it forward, remembering too late that she hadn't replaced the spent frost crystal. She was going to die.

Before Sapphire knew what was happening, Duster fired a round from his revolver, catching the assailant in his eye, sending him dramatically to the ground. She stood back as he seethed angrily, more black steam drifting from his shoulders. She noticed that one of his golden eyes had turned grey and had started bleeding. She also noticed that he had caught his hat in his other hand.

Lastly, she noticed that much like his sister, he too was a Faunus.

Duster took in a deep breath and closed his eyes. His arms slowly fell to his sides, white smoke trailing from the barrel of his gun. When he opened his eyes again they had reverted back to their original color, the colors of the world once again visible to him. He looked down at his hat and let out a sigh as he saw the hole the bullet had made. "I really liked that hat," he muttered under his breath before setting it on top of a nearby dumpster. He wiped the blood from his face and proceeded to re-chamber his weapon.

"Well," Sapphire said, unsure what to say. "That was something."

"Mm," Duster nodded, closing his eyes again as a headache began to bother him.

"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised about your ears." She tried not to stare at the pair of wolf ears atop his head, which were just as brown as the rest of his hair. "Your sister is a Faunus, after all."

"Mm," Duster responded again, still slowly chambering his weapon with fresh ammo.

"But, if I may, why hide what you are?"

"Like I said," he told her, flicking the chamber of his weapon closed before holstering it. He turned to her, hat between his hands. "We all have our secrets."

"Your sister doesn't seem to mind hers."

"She and I have… different approaches t'how we handle what we are."

As if on cue, Amber and Nigel rounded the corner at the end of the alley, not entirely surprised to find them near a trio of dead bodies. "Everyone alright?" Amber called out, her tail bouncing naturally behind her.

"Lost my hat," Duster called back, waving the ruined article of clothing over his head, "but we're fine."

"That's too bad. You really liked that one." They joined them by the dumpster out of breath. "We saw that one go down too late to do anything about him."

"S'alright," Duster said, nodding to Nigel who'd looked up from his book to take notice of his uncovered ears. "I've got more."

"True. We done here?"

"Looks like. Let's bring these bodies inside before we head t' Raoul's."

"How're we getting there again?" Sapphire asked, having forgotten during the commotion.

"We were going t'find an unwatched manhole an' make our way through th' sewers t'get there, but now that we've cleared th' buildin', I say we take th' entrance inside."

"Can we start the fire from there?" Sapphire asked, choosing to ignore that they could've just taken that exit to begin with and they'd never said anything about it.

"Yep. You'll even get a close up of one of th' detonators from there."

"Great, let's get out of here then."

Duster led the quartet further down the stairs he and Sapphire had taken after helping Nigel drag the bodies inside to dispose of. Inside the basement, Amber pulled aside some rusted laundry machines and revealed a hidden trap door. As they walked into the sewers, Sapphire took note of a grey device strapped to a large pile of burn Dust. She hoped they were long gone when it went off. Duster closed the hatch behind them and pulled out a scroll. He hit a series of buttons before tossing it, and his ruined hat, onto the pile. "All set," he declared, and they made their way silently to Raoul's bar.

Two minutes later a loud thump rattled the sewers as the hideout vaporized into white ash.

* * *

The hatch leading into the back room of the bar unsurprisingly did not budge on their first attempt at opening it. After Amber sent a few sparks through it to move whatever lay on top of it, however, it creaked open quite willingly. The four of them climbed up the ladder and into the room, paying no mind to the alcohol stored in plain view. The bustling sounds of people enjoying some time off c could be heard clearly from the main room of the bar, glasses chinking together n celebration, laughter dancing across the redwood floor. Duster went ahead and opened a side door leading to a staircase to the apartment above. He and Nigel headed upstairs while Amber stayed behind to introduce Sapphire to the barkeep.

"Ey, Ra!" she called out to the bar.

"One sec!" a grizzly voice shouted back. A hearty laugh followed, enticing Sapphire to take a peek into the bar to see what he looked like. A giant, brown skinned man with short white hair parleyed with a teenage girl with voluminous blonde hair. The two seemed to be enjoying flirtatious conversation, although the blonde eventually left in a huff after being denied a drink for the third time in a row. He told his other customers that he'd be right back and sauntered into the back room to greet them.

"Ey, Amber!" the man exclaimed with open arms, embracing his goddaughter lovingly, lifting her into the air and doing a short twirl. Sapphire silently wondered just how large the rest of the family was. He was easily seven feet tall. "What brings you by?"

"Oh, you know. Ran into some trouble and need a place to lie low for a bit."

"Ah, so that's what that rumble was." He let her down gently. "Had to ditch that hideaway of yours, did ya?"

"Yeah, brother got seen on his way there escorting this fine lady." Amber gestured over to Sapphire and he turned to see her for the first time.

"I see. Made a new friend, did ya?"

"Something like that."

"Well howdy," he smiled, extending an arm to Sapphire. "I'm Raoul. Friends call me 'Ra,' which is just about everyone, really."

"Sapphire," she smiled back, accepting his hand. "Nice to meet you."

"Likewise. I imagine the other two are upstairs?"

"Yeah," Amber nodded, "we're pretty tired."

"Well I'll let you get to restin' then. As usual, you're welcome to stay as long as you need."

"Thanks, Ra. We'll let you get back to it."

"Aye, aye." Raoul waved goodbye and went back to tending to his flock.

"He seems nice," Sapphire commented as they trekked upstairs.

"And tall, right?" Amber grinned, reading her mind.

"Well, I wasn't going to mention it, but-"

"Genetics: it's a heck of a thing. You should've seen our grandmother." Sapphire might've given up on the tall life if she ever had.

Upstairs they found Duster cooking pancakes like he'd promised, Nigel choosing to occupy a chair near a lit fireplace, his book in hand. Amber went ahead and crashed on a bean bag in the living room. Sapphire slumped down against a nearby wall, removing her glaive from her back so she'd be more comfortable.

"Hey, quick question," Amber said, pointing to Sapphire.

"What?"

"You always carry your weapon like that?"

"No, I had a sheathe to carry it in its sword form, but I lost it last night."

"Ah. Bro can probably look for it tomorrow."

"Thanks."

"Still, good that you know how to conceal it without it. Mine's way too big to do that."

"You didn't have yours with you?" She had assumed her arm was all she needed.

"Nah, it's not finished. I'll show it to you when it is, though."

A few minutes passed as they relaxed in silence, recuperating their spent energy. Eventually Duster served his pancakes. While they all had syrup with theirs, he was the only one to add a couple strawberries on top.

"Hey bro," Amber spoke, suddenly remembering something, "I forgot to ask – how's Elaina?"

"Fine, all things considered."

"You two know what you're gonna do yet?"

"No, but we'll have a chance t'talk it out under th' tree tonight."

"She got some time off?"

"Yep."

"Cool."

Sapphire didn't know who this Elaina was, but decided to stay out of the conversation, letting silence settle in once more.

"So," Sapphire eventually began between bites, "that went well."

"You expected any different?" Amber asked, raising a brow.

"Never fought the White Fang before. You three certainly knew how to handle them."

"We've got a lot of experience with that, don't we bro?" Duster nodded, paying more attention to his meal than the conversation.

"I feel like we could benefit more from each other's skills."

"Oh?"

"Well, you all are helping me find my brother's killer, so why don't I help you find your parents killer too?"

"You want to team up?"

"Why not? If you're going to take on the most notorious gang in Vale, you'll want all the help you can get."

Amber took a false moment to think it over, already aware of the benefits of a fourth teammate. She didn't even have to glance sideways to her brother and friend to see they wanted to do it.

"Besides, the more the merrier, right?"

"Well," Amber smiled, "with that logic, how could we refuse? Let's do it."

"Cool." Sapphire did an imaginary fist pump inside her head, secretly shouting "yeah!" where no one could hear her.

"What would we call ourselves?"

"SAND."

The three of them turned to Nigel, who had finally chosen to speak, although not look up from his book.

"Sand?"

"It's an acronym for our names, like Beacon does with their students. It's metaphorical too, if you think about it."

"You and your metaphors…"

"I like it," Duster said approvingly.

"Well then, we have a name."

"SAND, huh?" Sapphire murmured to herself. "This should be interesting."

* * *

"So, uh, what now?" Sapphire asked, the newly formed team having finished their meals.

"Sleep sounds good."

"Sleep, yeah."

Nigel nodded in agreement.

"Okay then."

So they did.


	3. Long Yellow Road

It was just another day working for the cause for the Faunus they called "Crab." Not out on the streets protesting the outrageously well hidden racism the humans used to maintain their dominance, nor out in the field with his brothers and sisters dealing justice to those responsible and taking back what was rightfully theirs. No, he was far too passive for that. It's not that he didn't want to recognize the plight of his kind, or that he didn't have the stomach for it – well, he doesn't, but it's really that he doesn't have the legs for it. Being confined to a wheelchair limits what options you have, after all. He just doesn't have the mobility to be of any use to the White Fang in the field. His mind, however, was a different story. They recognized his talents for analyzing data, so they welcomed to the fight and put him safely behind a screen, helping by assembling the best teams for the job.

Or, at least, that's how it was before Torchwick showed up.

Crab couldn't believe it at first – a human working with the White Fang? It had to be a trap – the police had finally wizened up and placed a mole in their ranks. He'd voiced his concerns to the lieutenant during one of their more recent meetings, and he'd acknowledged them, but he seemed to more than trust the man. Roman was someone who knew just how bad humans really were. He even openly recognized his place among them, the lieutenant said. But he was a friend they sorely needed in their fight, whether they liked it or not.

Despite the attempt to reassure him, Crab remained skeptical, keeping a close eye on how the con man ran things. As time went by, he heard and went over reports of missions he'd overseen personally. There were numerous recounts of his less-than-Faunus-friendly nature and rambunctious tone, but they'd always chalk that up to him not liking anyone other than himself. Those who worked with him also spoke of his brilliant attention to detail and his levelheaded efficiency displayed when under pressure. Some began to respect him, even call him a brother. Though Crab kept his skepticism in plain view, he too saw the proof in the data. Roman knew what he was doing – even since he'd arrived, their triumphs had been outnumbering their failures. Once Crab had entertained the idea of exchanging pointers with the man, but he'd been reassigned before that could happen.

Apparently, Roman had heard of Crab's concerns and brought him up with the lieutenant and his superiors, and they had decided to push Crab to the sidelines for a while to give the human some "breathing room." He was furious at first, claiming that he was taking his job just like the rest of the humans do to their kind, wondering if they'd throw him into a mine next. The lieutenant took him aside for a chat and told him that this was just a temporary thing to calm unrest in the organization. He still knew just how bat the humans were, he said, and claimed to fight their tyranny until the day he died, but it wouldn't help to fight amongst themselves at the same time. "This is not a time for dissention, but retribution," he said in his next big recruitment speech, which helped appease those with doubts. That still didn't stop him from putting Crab out of view.

Crab went along with it, though, agreeing to believe in his leaders for a little while longer, and took his new position in silence. Now he spends most his time in an apartment writing reports and managing personnel rosters, while Roman assigns and leads the teams himself. He still didn't trust the human, but he could set aside those feelings if it brought around real change for once.

Crab sighed and laid his head on his desk in boredom. It had been weeks since his new job had started and he hadn't seen a single other member in that time. All he ever saw were chat messages, pictures in roster updates, and reports from field agents. He alt-tabbed away from his work and to a fighting game he liked, but didn't start playing it. This was no way to live, he thought. Maybe he'd go outside later and try to make a friend at a café. Maybe he'd finally call his parents, who were probably worried sick about him, and ask for life advice. Hell, maybe he'd visit them. It'd been a few years since he'd been home.

Actually, that's a really good idea, he thought. Maybe I should exit out of this and take a breather. Figure my life out. Get a sandwich or something. In that order – no, wait, sandwich first. I'm hungry.

Before he could do any of that, a gigantic double-edged sword plunged through his des, shattering his mouse and keyboard, and surprising him enough to send him recoiling out of his wheelchair and topple him to the floor.

"Oops," a female voice said.

"What?" Crab asked no one in particular, dazed from the impact.

"Oh, I kinda destroyed your setup," the voice responded, "my bad. Lemme see if I can…"

Crab propped himself up with his elbows as the voice trailed off and saw a tall, blonde woman with green goggles and a prosthetic left arm standing on the desk behind the sword. She crouched down behind his computer and disconnected the mouse and keyboard, replacing it with a single wireless device that handled both functions. She flipped around the monitor to look at it. "Just gotta install some drivers, and… done!" She hopped off the desk, picked up his wheelchair, and helped him back into it.

"Thanks," he muttered, still a little confused.

"Technology's pretty rad, isn't it?" She smiled, leaping back onto the desk to peer at the monitor. "Used to be that you'd have to manually install drivers from a disk. Now that's all internal and automated." The fingers in her left hand assumed the position most people take when using a mouse, except this time without a mouse, calibrating its sensitivity with a couple imaginary clicks. Crab saw the glimmer of text light up on the inside of her goggles, as well as the waggle of her bushy tail.

"Who are you?" He glanced under his desk to see if the hidden alarm button was intact, but frowned to see that the sword had pierced it too.

"Amber – ooh, you play Grimm Eclipse too?" She patted her metal arm. "I've got a copy of that in here. Fun, isn't it?"

"Yeah…" Crab kept his hands on his wheels, intimidated by the friendly tone the woman was using. And her sword – yeah, that too.

"What's yours?"

"Pardon?"

"Your name." She glanced up from the monitor to look at him. "You asked mine, so it's only fair that you share yours."

He hesitated, not wanting to give out private information freely.

"Oh, and don't bother with lying," she said, turning back to the monitor. "I know you keep personnel files here, so I'd find out anyways. Better to just not waste any time."

"Crab," he told her honestly.

"Crab? Is that a nickname?"

"My real name is too monotonous for my liking," he half-joked. What was he doing? This woman just broke in to a secure outpost. He shouldn't be telling her such things so easily!

"Ah, I know what that's like," Amber nodded.

"Really?" Augh!

"Yeah, I have three middle names. Amber will do just fine, though."

A bit of time passed in silence as the woman continued doing whatever she was doing. Eventually she pulled out an external hard drive and plugged it into the computer. A minute later she took up a perch on the hilt of her sword and stared down at him.

"So," she began awkwardly, "how are you doing?"

"Well, I was about to start having a crisis of faith before you arrived, but right now I think I'm being robbed. That is what's happening, right?"

"I am copying a few things off your computer, so yeah, you're getting robbed."

"Great." He rolled his eyes, trying not to put his fear on display.

"Shouldn't take too long." She glanced down at her left palm and a holographic display popped up. "I'd give it another five, six minutes to finish."

"Why not just take the hard drive itself? Wouldn't that be easier?"

"I don't know what kind of counter-measures you've got on there. Safer to just take what I need."

"What if you accidentally pick up something extra, like a virus?"

"In that case, I'll just hit this button here-" she tapped something on her holographic display, "and call it a day."

"Oh." So much for that.

"Always use protection, kiddo."

"I'm not a kid," Crab objected, "I'm 17 – practically an adult."

"Yeah, but I'm older so I can be as petty as I want." She stuck out her tongue teasingly-playfully, almost getting a laugh out of him. This was all kinds of strange.

"I've gotta say," he said, choosing his words carefully, "you're not as… threatening as I thought you were going to be."

"I could always wave my sword in your face if it'd make you feel better." She patted the hilt of her blade lovingly.

"No, no, that's okay." Now she was being threatening. "How do you carry that around, anyway? It's almost as tall as you are."

"I have muscles." She flexed her good arm.

"Right, I suppose that was obvious."

"Also, the polarity thing helps."

"Your semblance is polarity?" Why was she telling him so much? He just couldn't figure her out.

"Yep."

"Wait – I knew you looked familiar. You're one of those people who've been causing trouble for us; asking questions and sending our men home with broken bones!"

"And women," she grinned. "Can't be discriminatory, now can we?"

"But… you're a Faunus, just like us! Why fight your own kind?"

"Just because we share a species doesn't mean we share ideals."

"We're fighting for our freedom!"

"You're kinda being jerks about it, though."

"What?" Crab felt himself getting angry. He wanted to rise out his chair and shout. "You think we should be nice? When has that gotten us anywhere?"

"It seemed to be working before," she mused, crossing her arms.

"Hardly," he scoffed. "Words and smiles hardly mean a thing when our people are starving inside their homes, slaving away in a mine because that's the only job they can get."

"I have a question for you," Amber said, suddenly dismounting her sword and taking a seat in front of it so she'd be closer to Crab. She took off her goggles and stared at him with fierce green eyes, gently resting her chin on the backs of her hands.

"Why do you think they call us terrorists?"

"I- what?"

"It's because they're jerks too, yeah, but also because they think they're right. I can't exactly blame them when the group once responsible for uniting our two races is executing humans in broad daylight, turning peaceful protests into violent displays of power. Before, they were afraid of us because they could not grasp the idea that we had the potential to be just as good as or even better than them. They abused us for that – tried to rile us up. Now they're afraid of us because they succeeded and now they know we are just as bad as them, if not worse.

"The problem is the White Fang isn't wrong either. We absolutely should have stood up to their abuses. Heck, I do that every day too. We should be equals, not animals."

"Then why fight us if you believe in us?"

"Two reasons. One: I don't believe your method is the one we should be using. Blood in the streets only puts more blood in the streets. There's too much anger in our fight, something I have firsthand experience with. My brother is probably one of the angriest people alive, but he doesn't let that dictate his actions… all of the time. We need to find a better way to cope with that anger and a better way to prove that we don't have to prove we're equals."

"You think you have that way?"

"If I did, I'd be taking over your gang, not fighting it. And that brings me to my second reason: I'm working from a smaller picture, where as the White Fang is working from 'the big picture.' During one of your 'displays of power,' you took the lives of my parents. I'm just looking for the Faunus who gave the order. That's who I'm fighting, not your ideal."

"I…" This was outrageous. Why was Crab listening to this garbage? And why was it making an odd sort of sense? What did she mean the white Fang killed her parents? Did they kill their own kind before too? "I… don't know if I can accept that."

"I didn't say you had to," Amber shrugged. "I don't even know if that's right. I'm just following my heart, like my brother. Just wanted to be clear that's where I'm at right now."

Crab sighed, feeling dejected. It was bad enough that he was having a crisis of faith before, but now this? That breather was sounding better every minute.

Amber's external hard drive beeped as it finished copying the files she wanted and she turned around to retrieve it along with the other device she'd plugged into the computer. She pocketed them and hopped off the desk, removing her sword from it and swinging it over her shoulder. Crab gulped – she was still really tall.

"You said you were having a crisis of faith earlier, right?"

"Yeah," he mumbled.

"What about?"

"I-" he sighed again. "I don't know if we're doing the right thing either. Frankly, I was hoping that argument would rekindle my belief."

"Well," Amber smiled, slipping on her goggles and placing a hand on his shoulder, "maybe you should take a break."

"I was just thinking about that, actually."

"You could always track me down later to argue some more."

"Maybe I will." She laughed. He couldn't help laughing with her. "So wait, does this mean you're not going to kill me?"

"Yep."

"So I can just go about my day?"

"Well, I have to knock you out first. Give you a reason to take a break. It'll hurt for a while, but don't worry, you'll be fine."

"Oh, okay. Wait, what?"

Before he could flinch, Amber electrocuted him to sleep and went on her merry way.

* * *

"Really, just like that?" Duster asked, bewildered by his sister's tale.

"Well, I left out the bits where I took care of the guards outside and dealt with the internal security, but yeah, just like that."

"You sure your copy has everything we need?"

"Can't be sure 'till I sift through it all, but I think it'll give us something to work with."

"Alright then, good work, sis."

"Thanks," she nodded, hopping off her stool, which she'd taken from their godfather's spares for bar fights. "I think I can avoid the stuff this Torchwick guy has touched – he seems too recent an addition to matter to us."

"Still sounds important to me," Duster said, folding his arms. "Might be we'll have to handle him anyways."

"Might be someone is taking care of that for us already."

"What do you mean?"

Amber tiptoed over to the tale her brother sat near to pick up the romance novel she'd walked in with, trying not to wake Sapphire, still asleep on the couch across from him past mid-day.

"That girl I ran into earlier, the one who gave me this?" She tapped the cover of the book, which was delightfully titled "Ninjas of Love." When Duster skimmed through the opening pages, he knew it was just as hilarious as it sounded. He was tempted to bring up the idea of acting out dramatic readings of it with Nigel at that poetry slam club he loved so much.

"What of her?"

"I glanced through some of the data while I was at the base. She has a file in there."

"Really; she one of them?"

"If she was, then she isn't anymore. The White Fang seem to be hunting her."

"Hm… maybe we should talk to her?"

"Maybe," she shrugged, "but given that I couldn't tell she was a Faunus when I met her, maybe she doesn't want to be involved anymore."

"Fair point, I'll leave that one up to you."

"In any case, I should head back to my shop. I'm not the only one who needs new limbs."

"Alright, see you later, sis." He waved goodbye to her as she left through the door and made her way downstairs.

When he turned back around, he saw that Sapphire had woken up, sitting groggily with her hair in an adorable mess atop her head.

"Afternoon," the wolf Faunus said in greeting.

"Wasn't I sitting over there?" She asked after a few seconds of confusion, pointing at the wall near the door.

"Y'were, but we decided t'move y' to th' couch after you fell over."

"That explains the headache," she murmered, rubbing the side of her head. "You got any OJ?"

"Yeah." Duster got a glass for both of them. When he returned, her hair was all normal again. When he asked her how she did that, she told him it was magic.

"So I'm guessing Amber found something?" Sapphire queried between silent sips. It had been a while since she'd last had orange juice. She didn't remember it being so tangy.

"Y'heard that, did ya?" She barely caught a temporary frown cross his face.

"Bits and pieces; wasn't awake enough to catch everything, but you two weren't exactly quiet."

"Sorry 'bout that," he smiled sheepishly. Weird for someone who is part wolf to be able to do that.

"It's okay, I needed to get up anyways."

"Y'looked like y'needed a good rest."

"Mm, part of me thought the last couple days were a bad dream. Guess not."

"I know what that's like."

"I'd imagine so."

There was a pause as the two of them took a simultaneous drink of OJ - a bit bitter that time. Sapphire looked out the window closest to her as some light flared through it, its sill empty and dusty. Cleaned up, it might've been a good resting place for a cat.

"I'm a little surprised you managed to find one of their bases so quickly. I expected us to lay low for a while and then go hunting."

"What can I say," he beamed with comedic pride, "we work fast. Although, if you prefer to keep napping…"

"Hey, I just like sleep, okay?" she growled a little too seriously.

"Never said there was anythin' wrong with sleepin'. I do it all th' time."

"Surprise, surprise."

Yeah, a cat would love that sill. And later in the day when there was no light, it could hop down to the floor below it – maybe on a new velvet rug – and lie on its back and be all cute and cuddly.

"Where's Nigel?" Sapphire wondered aloud, noticing the giant man wasn't in the room.

"He went to go visit his mother's shop in the market. Actually, d'you want t'meet her? I've got t'stop near there anyways, so why not tag along before I take y'home?"

"Sure," she said as they both stood up. "Doesn't look like I've got anything better to do anyways."

"Cool. Oh, and take this:" he traded her empty glass for a familiar scabbard. It was the one she'd left behind at the docks. "The morning shift found this laying there all by its lonesome. They held onto it in case anyone came back for it."

"Thanks," she said, genuinely happy to have the sheathe back. She immediately slid her blade into it and hooked it to her waist. "Wasn't looking forward to replacing it."

"Amber did say I'd find it, right?"

"She did. I'm just not used to being around useful people anymore."

"My sister's not one to lie," he shrugged, donning his hat over his ears. "Stick around – maybe you'll meet more of us."

"Right."

* * *

The market is one of those places that you just expect to be packed on the weekends as thousands of humans and Faunus alike bustle their way through tight spaces to acquire the goods they need to survive. Most shops are small, family owned outfits that specialize in certain services. You've got your tattoo parlors, like Cid's Tats, your book stores, like Red Apple Books near the front, and Anteater's at lining up the rear. Then there are the music shops, like Nucleus Records, where musicians small and large perform on a daily basis, the groceries, and the occasional mixed-heritage restaurant. Some people, usually from out of town, set up stalls in the street to display their wares from. There used to be laws against them, but a few decades back they managed to strike a revenue share deal with the locals. Busking musicians looking for an enthusiastic crowd often spend their time jamming down there. More than a few famous bands got their start on that long yellow road.

And then there's Jade's Emporium, Nigel's mother's shop.

Half way down the brick road the market runs along, there is this large open space designed like a roundabout, but for people. This is one of the busiest places in the whole section of the city. On one side of the circle are six shops, each something different, each never lasting for more than two months – not because Jade's drives them out of business by taking up the whole other side, but because they rotate out with other lesser known businesses as a sort of showcase. You never quite know what you're going to get each time the switch comes around.

In the center is a large fountain, fancy and solemn, though it rarely looks the part, dedicated to the fallen huntsmen to whom every living being owes their thanks and praise. It was declared an untouchable monument – something to be seen, but not touched or experienced. When Jade moved in, she didn't have any of that. Now bands perform concerts in front of it, chefs cook around it, and on hot days, children splash inside it, coloring the statues with chalk and paint. Of course, she'd clean it up at night with the other store owners, but as she'd put it "there's respect, and then there's dedication." Her own son said she was full of it and she laughed.

It's certainly a lively place, though as rumor has it, Junior's club may match it. You'll find more Faunus here than anywhere else in Vale enjoying their time relaxing, chatting and dancing. The police rarely have to touch the place because of the store owners, lead by Jade. They make sure the market is a safe haven for all.

When Jamal's grocery had its time in the spotlight several rotations earlier, he dragged this one trouble maker (racist) from the roundabout to the front of the market, bringing loud attention to his hate crime while Jade and Cid gathered a parade of supporters behind them, human and Faunus alike. When they reached the entrance of the yellow-brick road, a three-way intersection, and tossed him out, a sea of friendly faces kept him from coming back. A few weeks later he came back anyways and personally apologized to Jamal on his knees, offering to help around the store as penance. Now he's known as one of the more prominent voices of Faunus rights in the market. We're all proud of him.

"Sounds like a fun place to be around," Sapphire said, breathless as they walked down its streets.

"Well, Amber and I have spent the last six years living around here," Duster smiled as he waved to Jamal and the man, who was making faces to his 18 month old daughter toddling in her wee blue booties. "It's kinda grown on me."

"I'll bet."

"We're almost there; shouldn't be more than a couple minutes if there isn't a show at the fountain."

"You haven't told me what kind of shop Jade's is yet."

"You'll see when we get there," he chuckled. "Can't spoil too much now."

The sign was a little more than telling what she'd expect to find inside: anything and everything. Each oversized letter was composed of jade outlined with worn marble. Heroes, beasts, and Grimm of legends had been carved into them in great detail, invisible from afar, but implicitly apparent up close. The first thing she noticed upon stepping through its glass doors was the gigantic jade dragon suspended by invisible wires above. Its wingspan, measured in godfathers, was three long. They'd have dwarfed the lights if the wings weren't anything but bone. On colder, more eccentric nights, ground burn dust burned blue in the dragon's skull, lighting its teeth and eyes – a fearsome sight to behold.

The shelves and displays below gave haven to trinkets and other beauties from around the world, some modern, and others from a forgotten age where light was a myth in the dark. Books and tomes ran the walls of the second floor, works of fiction and not, some of which you can find at Tukson's, some of which you cannot. He and Jade often traded so he could maintain his image of having "every book under the sun." In the far back were stands of old huntsman armors, usually replicated by permission, with a pair of exceptions, along with their signature tools of protection and destruction. Adults would gawk and shuffle around them, trying to control their children, who stare up at them, eyes wide, pawing at their greaves, going for their swords and spears. The huntsmen who came by to pay their respects, however; those who knew the stories only kneeled, even when Jade said it was within their right to inspect their history, so long as they didn't break it. She owed her kin that much.

Some of the things were for sale, like the books with duplicates, where as others were not, like the armor. It was more like an interactive museum and an emporium. Then again, a place of inspiration is often better than a place of profit.

"Interesting place," Sapphire commented as she oohed and ahhed her way between pieces, trodding down the aisles like the child we all wish we still were.

An out of place thud from the balcony above, prompting the pair to move upstairs.

"Dar!" A middle aged woman shouted from out of sight. "Could you come help me for a moment?"

When they made it upstairs, they saw a woman with long, jagged green hair in a tank top arranging books on one of the two-story tall bookshelves. A man and his kid – a boy no more than three, who was sitting on his shoulders with a toy plane in his hand, handed her a book that had fallen from a stack she was holding one handed. What struck Sapphire as odd was that she was putting these books back without a ladder. In fact, her only support was from the tips of her bare toes, clinging to the edge of one of the higher shelves effortlessly.

"Who's that?" Sapphire asked as she tried to understand the woman's form to see if she could replicate the feat.

"That's Jade," Duster said nonchalantly, having seen this hundreds of times before.

As they closed the distance between them, the little boy pointed their way.

"Hat!" he declared, and threw his toy plane. It floated to Duster gently, who caught it between two fingers with expert precision. He then traded it for his hat like a Frisbee. The boy caught it in his tiny hands with equal precision before drooping it over his head, so big it covered his eyes. He propped it up with one hand, his fingers shaped like a gun. "Draw, pardner," he said with enthusiasm.

"Sorry, Little J," Duster smiled at the boy, shrugging with exaggeration, "but I don't got mine with me." He lied, but that was okay.

"Well, too bad!" the boy laughed maniacally and shot him with a pew. Duster feigned injury, clutching his shoulder and falling flat to his back, groaning "y'got me!"

The boy commanded his father forward to inspect his kill. As he looked the defeated Faunus over, pushing the hat back up repeatedly, he was shocked to find that he had actually brought his weapons with him.

"B-but, you s-said-" the boy stammered.

"I'm sorry, kid," duster grunted weakly, still feigning injury, "I was just too embarrassed."

"Why?" he asked with genuine curiosity.

"I… didn't bring any ammo." That time he was really telling the truth. Duster closed his eyes and pretended to pass out before the boy could gasp.

"How could you," the kid pouted, the words coming out with some difficulty. "You're s-supposed t' re-mem-member! Shame on you!" He folded his arms and scrunched up his face in disappointment. Sapphire though it was cute.

"Y'gonna let 'em talk this way t'me all day, Dar?" Duster asked, raising a brow.

"Absolutely," the boy's father laughed and reached down to help his friend up. The boy put his hat back on his head and patted it into place. Duster adjusted the brim a bit, but let it take its shape back on its own, handing the plane back to him.

"Hey, Duster," the woman said, still putting away books, her balance perfectly precarious.

"Jade; Dar, Little J," Duster said back. He didn't have to reach far to tussle the kid's brown hair. "How're ya'll doin'?"

"Well enough," Dar sighed, "though my husband is still quite insistent on trying new recipes every week."

"Don't tell me; he made another stew."

"You know my stance on those. As for Jayce?" He looked up to his kid, who was fiddling with the toy plane. Sapphire noticed Amber's logo on emblazoned on its underbelly.

"I like planes!" The boy smiled. Sapphire almost giggled. Jade did.

"Yeah."

"And Cor?"

"I'm not his keeper."

"He's your brother-in-law. And best friend."

"He's-" Dar sighed, adjusting Jayce's position on his shoulders. "He's coping."

"Well, considering Rebecca, that's th' best we can expect out of him."

"Yeah." There was an awkward pause between obligatory questions. "How about you? I hope your life has been less depressing since the last time we met."

"Uh," Duster hesitated, scratching the back of his head.

"Really?"

"Well, more exciting, really. We can talk about it later."

"Sure."

"How 'bout you, Jade," Duster asked, turning to the green haired lady above.

"Good," she said as she finished placing the books on the shelf. She hopped off and fell backwards, flipping once before landing lightly on her haunches. "Great, actually." She flipped her hair out of her eyes, which were a fierce green. "Store's been busy and the Market's been relatively peaceful. Cid's got a few new designs, but not much else has changed since you last came by." Her gaze shifted to Sapphire and tossed a split-second gesture her way. "Who's this," she asked, striding toward her.

"I'm Sapphire," she said, extending a hand to greet her.

"Mmhmm," Jade said, brushing past her, granting her a close up view of the incredible detail in the dragon tattoo that coiled around her chest and spine. Sapphire wished for a moment she had another frost crystal to keep her face from melting before noticing her blade was in Jade's hands.

"What do we have here," she murmured, turning the weapon in her hands as Sapphire reached for her sheathe, wondering how she managed to take it without her noticing.

Jade put some space between her and the group as she swung the blade around for a bit. She naturally extended the weapon from scimitar to glaive form as she fought some imaginary enemy, her eyes closed. As they watched her go, Sapphire noticed that her form was eerily similar to her own. Jade even knew to slap a dust crystal in the blade's gap. Duster and Dar heard her mutter the words "it's missing the ribbon" under her breath.

"Sapphire, you said?" Jade finally spoke between twirls.

"Yes."

"Are you Victory's daughter?"

Sapphire paused for a moment, surprised to hear her mother's nickname spoken by a stranger.

"How do you know that name?"

"Fine weapon you've got here," she said, handing it back to her. "Did you know it once belonged to the Jade Dragon?"

"The legendary huntress from Vaccuo? My mother told me the tales, yes. How did you-"

"Legend? She knows I'm only 48, right?"

"What?"

"Sorry, let me start over." Jade extended a hand to shake the one she'd ignored earlier and Sapphire accepted it. "I'm Jade, also known as the legendary huntress from the west."

"What." Sapphire was having trouble parsing this. She heard Duster snicker. Little J covered his mouth when she turned to him. "Did you know about this?"

"The weapon? Naw, but the legend? Now you know why I wanted you to meet her."

"Huh. How did you acquire the weapon?"

"I taught her how to use it. C'mon, Vicky must've mentioned that too."

"You did?" She added a bit quieter "what did you just call her?"

"Yeah, a few years before I retired. Passed on the weapon itself when I did."

"Huh." Jayce started making airplane noises while playing with his toy. Duster joined him, pretending his hat was a UFO. "Mom always said you were dead. Was that to protect you?"

"Oh, no, I imagine I am quite dead to her."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I broke up with her, after all."

"You – what? You dated my mom?"

"Yeah, felt like I needed a fresh start on life. Bought this place with what I had. Met Nigel's father soon after." She peeked past her to call to Duster. "He's in the arena reading, if you're looking for him, by the way." He returned a casual thumbs up as Little J's plane blew up his UFO with its secret super lasers.

"I'm sorry; I'm still having trouble accepting this. You dated my mom?"

"It's not that hard a concept to fathom, kid," she frowned, crossing her arms. "Or are you saying-"

"No, no," Sapphire said, holding up her hands to stop that train of thought, "nothing like that. I'm just feeling suddenly validated about certain… revelations right about now."

"Oh." She unfolded her arms.

"Yeah."

"High-five." They did.

Some hard rock trickled in from outside, drawing the attention of Jade's customers.

"Well, I should probably get back to work. Seems like some of my patrons are getting distracted by-"

She twitched unexpectedly, her ears perking up as she recognized the tune being played.

"Is that Rich? Excuse me."

Jade leapt from the balcony without further warning and made her way to the door, waiting for the song to be over. Duster, Sapphire, Dar, and consequently the evil-mastermind known as Little J followed, taking the stairs to see what the commotion was about. Apparently a band had just started a concert. A substantial crowd had gathered to see them play. There were two guitarists, a keyboard player, and drums, but no bass. They all stood ankle deep in the fountain, except for the drummer, rocking their hearts out. Sapphire would've asked their name, but everyone seemed lost to the harmonies.

Except for Jade, who at the end of the song leapt over the crowd and into the fountain with a splash. The crowd cheered.

"Rich," she said, picking up a mic.

"Jade," the lead singer smiled.

"Didn't hear you were playing tonight."

"Felt like surprising you for once."

"So you did. Where's bassman?"

"Sick."

"Ouch. Got his bass?"

"Yep." The drummer handed it to her as if this was all scripted, or had happened before.

"And an amp?"

"Plugged in with an extra long cable, too."

"Sick." She slung the bass over her shoulder and plugged the cable into it before leaping to the top of the fountain and straddling it like she did the shelf. Then she ripped into a roaring bass solo, cuing the next song, and for the real set to begin. The crowd bounced, Dar and Jayce included.

"Well, that was interesting," Sapphire shouted in an aside to Duster.

"Small world, ain't it," he shouted back.

"So what now?"

"I've still gotta stop by Jamal's on th' way out, but if y'd like t'leave, we can."

"Actually, I think I'd like to stay for a bit," she said as her foot started tapping and her head started bobbing.

"Sounds good t'me."

So they did.


	4. Good Fight (WIP)

**[Author's Note: Hm. Been a while, hasn't it? So much for updating in chunks to get things out faster. I suppose that's what I get for writing a lot of the middle/end stuff in the month and a half since last I updated. Speaking of, a couple chapters (or the next chapter, which ever works) from now I'll be back to full chapter updates. Also, when chapter 7 rolls around, I'll be posting new chapters every week, meaning no ambiguous wait time for a month or so. Yay. In the mean time, here's the first section of chapter four, which is really chapter three: "Good Fight." Now introducing: the Feline Persepctive. Also, like I asked last time, if ya'll could leave some thoughts below they'd be much appreciated. While I've got a few outside opinions on this, the more I can hear the better. Now, enough rambling! Onward to adventure!]**

* * *

The ginger tabby yawned and stretched out her spine, the commotion below having rudely awakened her from her naps. She'd spent all night looking for a suitable place to rest, roaming from door to door in search of a gullible two-legger, as she called them, into their home. They seemed all too aware of her ploys, however, none letting up so much as a scrap of food. When her owner had died a year back, she'd never imagined living on her own would be so tough. She hadn't even the time to mourn before the landlords ran roughshod through the old Faunus's things, as well as her home, leaving her nothing but the gem-studded collar around her neck to remember her by.

Her first few weeks alone were awful. She'd been an indoor cat, so most of her glimpses of the outside world were either form behind a window or behind the bars of the carrier she was stuffed in to "protect" her during trips to the vet. She learned quickly to either keep to the alleys or to the rooftops, as two-leggers rarely ever notice when they trample over small things like her. Every time she got lost, which was almost every time she turned a corner, she tried to look to her kind for help. A grey haired cat also once lived with her and her keeper. He was like the father she'd never had. She'd hoped that others would be just like him.

She was saddened to learn just how naive she was. The first cat she met attacked her outright, ripping a chunk of her left ear off with angry teeth. The second did the same, but not before luring her in to be surrounded by a whole gang of cats. She was lucky enough to escape their claws, but the lesson they forced upon her stuck with her. She had only herself to rely on, and when she made her first kill they all backed off.

It only took a month for her to become known as the meanest cat in the district. She amassed a following of bloodthirsty strays, leading raids of food stores at night and delivering the same treatment she was given to other mewlings like she used to be. She grew cold and untrusting, except around the sacred few she could. She liked it, for a time, and even found herself in love. But when the fire engulfed the building she'd claimed and took the lives of every cat she knew, she was back to wandering the streets - a vagabond with no place to call home.

She stared lazily down at the two-leggers in the alley below from her perch on the fire escape, more annoyed than curious. There were several unfamiliar ones fighting a group of same-dressed ones. It had always struck her as amusing how their kind fought - they didn't ever seem to have claws to shred skin or teeth to tear throats with. She figured it must've been boring to fight as poorly equipped as they were. She knew they often used tools to stand in for such natural advantages, but there was no way the feeling was the same.

These ones, however, seemed different.

One of the unfamiliar ones with ears both on the sides of his head and atop it moved with heavy handed speed, his precise strikes audibly fracturing bone and disabling his opponents. Another, whose hair changed colors and had a tail similar to a dog's, appeared to control lightning like the grey clouds did, although no rainfall ever accompanied the tiny, red bolts when she sent her foes flying. The third fighter, a female like the second, was the patient kind, waiting for the same-dressers to go for her, rather than the opposite. She moved around them with circular grace, slamming the blunt end of her weapon into the blind spots of her enemies, countering their increasingly wild and inarticulate advances before eventually throwing them to the ground. The ginger tabby wanted to growl when she recognized the clothes of the same-dressers as the same kind that the two-leggers who started the fire wore, but the one in her stomach drowned it out.

There was a fourth unfamiliar two-legger standing off to the side who was more interesting that the rest combined. He was large, though not as tall as two of the others, and had only a small amount of hair on his head. Its color unsettled her, reminding her of the fire that took all that was good in her life as well. Yet he also reminded her of the old lady, reading a book in one palm, tuning out the world like she did. She'd often left large piles of them lying around, which the cat found to be comfortable sleeping spots when left in the sunlight. A nostalgic feeling tugged at her heart, one that she hadn't listened to in what felt like an eternity. This one was worth investigating, she decided. She trotted over to the half-lowered staircase and made her way down to him.

Nigel looked up from his book in time to see the ginger tabby leap to the floor and saunter towards him. It looked him over tentatively from a distance, advancing one leg after another. Curious, he shut his book around his thumb to save his place and kneeled down. It looked like it'd been without food for days, the wound on her ear marking her as feral. The collar around her neck told the story of the life she lived before and a limp in one of her hind legs marked her defiance of her age. This cat was well traveled, so what was it that made him interesting to her?

The tabby paused as the giant put his empty hand forward and touched the ground, creating a bridge she could traverse to reach his neck and tear it out. It was an unusual gesture of trust for a two-legger, one she'd almost forgotten she'd experienced before. What was his game, she wondered as she paced around him. It was hard to get a read on him - he neither smiled nor frowned. It looked more like he was hiding a great pain.

Satisfied that he wasn't leading her into a trap, she decided to continue her inspection up close.

Nigel didn't say a word when the cat climbed onto his back. He felt her long claws poke through his shirt and into his skin, but it didn't hurt. He waited as it prodded and kneaded at his spine, surprised to be touching metal. It scaled its way further up until it reached his shoulder, finding metal again. He stood up and looked at the tabby, whose eyes were wide with wonderment. He ran a single finger along her studded collar in search of a name. He found it scrawled in black near the back. He read it aloud softly, trying not to spook the cat. "Autumn." She seemed to tense, like she hadn't heard it in a while; like it brought back memories.

He shot a glance over to his teammates as he saw one of the grunts they were fighting break away and run toward him in an attempt to escape or gather reinforcements. He took two steps forward and turned to face him, taking up a majority of the alleyway. The grunt didn't halt his sprint - he either thought Nigel wasn't going to attack him because he'd been passive the whole encounter, or that he was small enough to slip by. In both cases he was wrong.

Nigel slid his book into one of his back pockets and extended his arm like a bridge again, this time over to a fuse box hanging off a wall. The ginger tabby bounded along it and hopped to safety, turning on a dime to witness the action. When the grunt crossed the imaginary line of skirmish marking the border of their allotted fight space he slid one foot forward, his arms hanging loose at his sides. Blue sparks licked the pavement underfoot, turning into small flames that trailed from his boot. The grunt smirked, taking him for an amateur who would be too slow to react to him diving by. But he could not count on what he could not see.

Nigel snapped his fingers and a brilliant blue flame combusted in the space between them, deafening the air with a crack that shook the ginger tabby to her bones. The grunt didn't feel his feet leave the ground, the explosive force knocking him out instantly and sending him sailing back down the alleyway. He crashed into the last grunt still standing, who teetered off balance and into Sapphire's forearm, which smashed down on her and cratered her into the floor.

Nigel sniffed once and looked down at his feet, which had coughed fire, and shook them out until not even a wisp of smoke remained. He reached for his book and scowled when he felt nothing there. He turned around and saw that it had been knocked out of his pocket and almost into the street. He hurried out to retrieve it before resuming his post, picking up where he left off like nothing had happened. He did do a double take when he realized he was reading it upside down a page turn later, however.

"Alright," Amber declared, seeing the fight was over, "let's get to unmasking these guys. See if you can find any scrolls too." She turned to her brother, who'd already found a wallet full of cash. "And leave their lien - we're here for their information, not to rob them."

Duster gave her a sarcastic whine before returning it. He unmasked his mark, a Faunus with a long, sharp tooth sticking out between his lips. Out of curiosity he pried open his jaw and saw that its twin ad been chipped off like he'd lost it in an earlier fight. Odd that he hadn't got it replaced with a fake, or hadn't had the other removed to keep his heritage hidden. Was he too proud or not proud enough? Either way, he didn't have a scroll so Duster moved on to the next unconscious grunt.

Sapphire picked over the girl she'd cratered with care, dragging her over to a wall to rest her against. With nothing in her pockets, her identity was all there was to discover. She slowly peeled off her full face mask, the sound of something sticky behind it sending shivers down her spine. "Gross," she whispered, disgusted as she unveiled a trio of claw marks on her left cheek that an Ursa had undoubtedly carved. One of the scars had reopened in their fight and bled into her mask, gluing it to her face. Her aura had stopped most of the bleeding, but sapphire dapped at it with a clean cloth anyways, putting enough pressure on it to clot the wound entirely.

Amber held her prosthetic hand over the face of the other female of the group, who didn't have any visible Faunus features as far as she could tell. A blue light shot out of her palm and a grid swept over the girl's face, a scanning program she'd written searching the list she'd stolen for any matches. Seconds later her arm beeped and a hologram of the girl's profile popped up. The first thing she looked for was a join date, which was too recent to have anything to do with the airship crash. Then she looked for a listing of her Faunus type. Under her name it said she was a deer Faunus, but Amber didn't see any antlers. Out of worry, she pulled down the girl's hood and found two shaven stumps of bone. She silently felt mortified - what person had forced her into a life of hiding who she was? A school yard bully whose friends held her down as he butchered her heritage with a knife? A prideful father whose born-in disdain for her kind that he'd learned from his war-participating parents led her to do the deed herself? She looked over to her brother, who'd put his hat and coat back on, hiding who he was, and touched her own tail. How many others of their kind couldn't bare the stigma of their birth?

"Everything okay?" Sapphire asked, walking up behind her. She released her tail and turned an eye her way, the worry gone from her face.

"Yeah," she lied. "Find anything?"

"Just some faces to look over. I guess they packed light." Sapphire shrugged like an old TV sitcom character. "Why is the White Fang such a problem anyways? So far we've been able to deal with them with ease, and we're not even huntresses."

"Despite this being the second time they've ambushed us since we met?" Amber scowled at her ignorance, causing Sapphire to shrink back a little. She patted down the deer Faunus as she spoke, searching for anything that would help. "These guys are strong in willpower and sheer mass. It's not so obvious during the day, when they're usually spending their time in hiding, but if you were to ever stumble upon one of their night rallies, well… they don't have the numbers to rival Atlas, but they're getting close."

"That they're makin' a daylight presence tells how bold they're gettin'," Duster pitched in. "Recruitment must be goin' up."

"I'm not surprised," Amber muttered. "They've always had charisma on their side, even before the change in leadership. Could be something big is coming up." She felt something solid inside the girl's vest. "Hello," she said to herself, pulling the vest apart to look for a hidden pocket. When she didn't find one, she cut a hole in it with a claw hidden in her prosthetic's fingers. She pulled a scroll out of the lining and began fiddling with it. Unfortunately it was password locked. She'd have to crack it back at her shop.

"Find something?" her brother asked, peering over her shoulder.

"Maybe," she said, pocketing the scroll. "I'll let you know later tonight." She stood up and looked over their unconscious foes. "Alright, while I keep checking off my list, you two remove their vests and give them to Nigel."

"What for?" Sapphire asked.

"To dispose of," Amber explained, scanning the scarred Faunus. Nothing relative came up. "We may be fighting the White Fang for revenge - killing even, but we don't hold anything against those who didn't have anything to do with the crash. They're only doing what they think is right."

"That sounds a little hypocritical," Sapphire pointed out, her lips pursed. "Aren't we all doing what we think is right?"

"Didn't say you had to agree with my logic," Amber said, walking over to a grunt her brother had just stripped.

"She's jus' bein' romantic about it," Duster said, stopping her from continuing any further. "It serves us no purpose t'kill anyone we don't have to. If we relieve them of their ties to th' gang, they might also have a chance t'find a better way t'live."

"So you're letting terrorists go on the off chance that they might share a few of your morals?"

"Some things in life jus' ain't as simple as you'd like, Saph." He kept the deer Faunus his sister had examined in his mind's eye. "Look, this conversation is gonna drag us place we don't want t'go. I don't mean t'tell you that y' shouldn't speak yer mind, but if we could do as my sister asked, we can get goin' where we do."

"I-" Sapphire huffed in defeat, convinced that she wasn't going to get anything out of continuing the conversation. "Fine," she said, striding over to one of the remaining grunts and relieving him of his uniform.

Duster turned to his sister, whose expression was naught but disappointment as yet another scan came back negative. "She asks a lot of questions," she commented, moving to the next grunt.

"She also has a point," he said, "even if I don't want t'admit it."

"Funny how that happens sometimes." She growled as her arm beeped again, informing her that yet another person wasn't on their list. "These guys must've joined this week, although I question why they'd send such fresh recruits to deal with us."

"T'keep us busy, perhaps?" Duster shrugged with uncertainty.

"Perhaps." She finished her last scan. A profile came up, but like the deer Faunus, his was too recent to have anything to do with their cause. "Hm," she frowned, rising to her feet. "I guess we'll just have to hope this scroll has something on it."

"Time we parted ways?"

"Yeah," she nodded, "I'll get to cracking back at my shop. Call me if anything comes up."

The sibling pair bid one another adieu and Duster headed over to join the others. He was mildly amused to see a ginger tabby springboard off Nigel's face, leaving several cuts behind. "What was that about," he asked, handing him the vests slung under his arm. Nigel shrugged, watching as the cat bounded around the corner. When he turned back to take the vests the cuts had already begun to sear shut and disappear. He tossed the clothes into a nearby trash can, snapping his fingers lightly and setting them ablaze. He looked back out the alley, catching a glimpse of the cat, which'd peeked around the corner to watch him before resuming its retreat.

"Thinking of goin' somewhere?" Duster asked as the cat's tail vanished from sight.

"Yeah," Nigel said. "Need to pick up a few things."

"Well, then we'll see y'later, then. Sis's headin' home t'work on th' scroll. Saph n' I will keep soldierin' on."

Nigel nodded and waved goodbye, reading his way to the long yellow road.

"So…" Sapphire began, standing beside Duster with a hand on the hilt of her sheathed blade. "Where are we going again?"

"I… don't remember," he admitted sheepishly.

"Great," she scowled, flustered that neither of them did.

"Got too caught up in that ambush, I think. Blasted sisterly steak lords," he added softly.

"Well, if it means we've got nowhere to go, can we head back to the docks and see if we can pick up my assassin's trail? We're not too far away, are we?"

"No," he said with some concern, "but it's been a week. Might not be anythin' left t'pick up."

"Maybe, but it wouldn't hurt to retrace what happened, would it?"

"I suppose it wouldn't," he admitted. "Some of the night workers might've saved some pieces for us too, now that I think about it."

Duster stretched out his shoulders, cracking his bones and releasing tension. The sound freaked Sapphire out a little.

"Alright," he nodded, adjusting his hat. "On to the docks we go."


End file.
